LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


'U 


m\m 


The  Color  Guard;  being  a  Corporal's  Notes  of 

Military  Service  in  the  Nineteenth  Army  Corps.  By  Rev. 
J.  K.  HOSMER,  who  volunteered  as  Private  in  the  Fifty-second 
Massachusetts,  and  went  through  the  campaign.  12mo.  $1.25. 

It  is  undoubtedly  the  most  piquant  and  readable  sketch  ever  made  of 
the  interior  life  of  a~ great  army  in  active  service,  and  made  from  the  inside, 
by  a  hand  entirely  competent. 

"  His  story,""  says  the  Daily  Advertiser,  "  is  written  in  a  delightfully 
graphic  epistolary  style,  and  is  really  one  of  the  most  sterling  books  that 
the  war  has  called  into  existence.  It  will  be  read  with  great  interest  by 
soldiers  everywhere,  and  by  civilians  with  equal  interest.  It  forms  the 
counterpart  of  DANA'S  *  Two  Years  before  the  Mast,'  and  ought  to  become 
as  popular." 

Everybody  should  send  a  copy  to  some  soldier  in  camp  or  hospital. 
No  gift  can  be  more  acceptable. 

The  Whip,  Hoe,  and    Sword;    or,  The  Gulf 

Department  in '63.  By  Rev.  GEO.  H.  HEPWORTII.  12mo.  $1.25. 

Mr.  HEPWORTH  went  out  to  New  Orleans  as  Chaplain  of  the  47th 
Massachusetts,  but  was  subsequently  commissioned  by  General  BANKS  as 
First  Lieutenant  in  the  Fourth  Louisiana  Native  Guards  (colored).  He  was 
detailed  to  superintend  the  plantations;  and  this  volume  is  the  result  of  his 
experience  more  particularly  in  that  department  of  duty.  It  throws  a  flood 
of  light  upon  the  vexed  question  of  paid  labor  upon 'the  plantation?,  and 
abounds  with  interesting  facts,  anecdotes,  and  sketches  of  Southern  life  and 
character. 

Chaplain  Fuller  ;  being  a  Life-Sketch  of  a  New- 
England  Clergyman  and  an  Army  Chaplain.  12mo.  Portrait. 
Price  $1.25. 

This  volume  has  a  wide  interest  from  the  graphic  picture  of  CAMP  AND 
FIELD  LIFE  which  it  presents,  and  the  vast  amount  of  important  informa 
tion  on  the  subject  or  the  conduct  and  progress  of  the  war  not  elsewhere 
obtainable. 

The  narrative  of  the  remarkable  duel  between  the  MERRIMACK  and  the 
MONITOR  is  the  only  full  account  in  print  from  the  pen  of  an  actual  eye 
witness  of  the  whole  affair. 

The  New  -  York  Tribune  devotes  three  and  a  half  columns  to  a  favorable 
review  of  the  book. 

The  Methodist  pronounces  Mr.  Fuller  "a  model  army  chaplain,"  and 
adds,  "  He  was  one  whose  qualities  it  is  good  to  commemorate;  who  in  his 
home  and  public  life  afforded  constant  examples  of  genial  virtue  and  of  ear 
nest  piety  well  worthy  of  the  imitation  of  young  Americans.  The  biogra 
phy  of  a  such  a  man  is  always  a  desirable  gift  to  the  reading  public." 

Ep*  All  these  Books  SENT  FREE  BY  MAIL  on  receipt  of  the  price. 

WALKER,    WISE,   &   CO., 

245,  Washington  Street,  Boston 


THE 


COLO  R-G  U  A  R  D: 

BEING 

A  CORPORAL'S   NOTES  OF  MILITARY  SERVICE 
IN  THE 


JAMES   K.   HOSMER, 


OT   THE    FIFTY-SKCOND    EKGIMKNT    MASS.    VOLUNTEEBS. 


"  Till  we  called 

Both  fleld  and  city  ours,  we  never  stood 
To  ease  our  breasts  with  panting." 

COKIOLANUS,  Act  II.  Scene  2. 


BOSTON: 

WALKER,    WISE,     AND     COMPANY, 

245,  WASHINGTON  STREET. 
1864. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

WALKER,   WISE,   AND   COMPANY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THIK1)    THOVSAXD. 


BOSTON  I 

STEREOTYPED   AND   PRINTED  BY  JOHN  WILSON   AND   SOW, 
No.  5,  Water  Street. 


HALBERT   STEVENS    GREENLEAF, 

LATE   COLONEL  OP  THE  FIFTY-SECOND   REGIMENT  MASS.  VOLUNTEERS, 
A  Resolute  Soldier  and  Noble  Man, 

Cfjts    53ooft    is    rcspcctfullg    Enscn&cti 

BY 

ONE   WHO. HAS   WITNESSED    HIS   COURAGE,    AND   EXPERIENCED 
HIS   GOODNESS. 


216588 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

WALKER,   WISE,   AMD   COMPANY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THIKD    THOrSAXD. 


BOSTON : 

STEREOTYPED   AND   PRINTED  BY  JOHN  WILSON   AND   SON, 
No.  6,  Water  Street. 


-; 

HALBERT   STEVENS    GREENLEAF, 

LATE   COLONEL  OF  THE  FIFTY-SECOND   REGIMENT  MASS.  VOLUNTEERS, 
A  Resolute  Soldier  and  Noble  Man, 

£fjts    23oofc    is    rcsprctfullg    Enscrt&clJ 

BY 

ONE   WHO, HAS   WITNESSED    HIS   COURAGE,   AND   EXPERIENCED 
HIS   GOODNESS. 


216588 


INTRODUCTION. 


As  this  volume  sees  the  light  at  the  instance  of  the 
author's  friends,  and  with  much  diffidence  and  reluctance 
on  his  part,  it  may  not  be  inappropriate  for  one  of  those 
friends  to  give  a  brief  statement  of  the  history  of  the 
work,  and  of  the  reasons  why  its  publication  has  seemed 
desirable. 

In  September,  1862,  Rev.  JAMES  K.  HOSMER,  pastor 
of  the  First  Church  in  Deerfield,  Mass.,  having  but 
recently  entered  on  his  chosen  profession  with  ardor 
and  with  rich  promise  of  success,  heard,  in  the  needs  of 
his  country,  a  higher  call  of  duty ;  and  with  every 
motive  of  interest  and  personal  feeling  opposed  to  the 
measure,  but  with  a  sense  of  obligation  which  his  con 
science  would  not  set  aside,  he  enlisted  as  a  private  in 
the  Fifty-second  Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers. 
He  entered  the  service  with  the  determination  to  evade 
neither  labor,  hardship,  nor  peril;  to  devote  whatever 
there  was  in  him  of  capacity  and  vigor  to  the  public 
cause  ;  and  to  do  what  he  might,  not  as  a  clergyman,  but 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

as  a  Christian  man,  to  minister  to  the  physical  and  moral 
welfare  of  his  fellow-soldiers.  His  ability  and  culture 
early  procured  for  him  the  offer  of  a  safe  and  easy  post 
in  the  military  family  of  Gen.  Banks.  This  he  declined  ; 
accepting  no  preferment,  save  a  place,  in  the  fore-front 
of  peril,  as  one  of  the  corporals  intrusted  with  the 
defence  of  the  colors  of  his  regiment.  During  his  term 
of  service,  he  prepared  letters,  in  the  form  of  a  journal, 
with  no  thought  of  their  publication,  but  solely  for  the 
perusal  of  his  father's  family  and  of  certain  intimate 
friends,  to  whom  they  were  sent  in  turn.  They  were 
read  with  vivid  interest ;  and  there  gradually  grew, 
among  several  of  those  through  whose  hands  they 
passed,  a  strong  desire  that  the  pleasure  and  benefit 
derived  from  them  should  be  extended  to  a  larger  circle. 
It  is  in  deference  to  their  judgment  that  he  consented 
to  revise  the  journal,  and  to  commit  it  to  the  press. 

We  have  urged  the  publication  of  this  record  on  the 
following  grounds  : — It  is  the  narrative  of  one  who  gave 
every  possible  proof  of  disinterested  patriotism.  The 
writer  had  large  and  varied  opportunities  of  observation  ; 
and  with  them  he  possessed  keen,  quick,  and  accurate 
discernment,  and,  as  we  think,  a  superior  power  of  life 
like  description  and  narration.  His  journal  gives  a  faith 
ful  picture  of  the  privations,  sufferings,  and  perils  of 
those  whose  living  and  dying  sacrifice  is  the  costly  price 
at  which  we  are  purchasing  the  redemption  of  our  coun 
try  from  dismemberment  and  ruin ;  and  it  can  hardly 
fail  to  do  its  part  in  awakening  the  gratitude  we  owe  to 
those  who  have  gone  forth  in  the  defence  of  our  liber- 


INTKODUCTION.  Til 

ties  and  institutions.  It  commends  our  army  to  our 
warmest  sympathy,  and  to  those  offices  of  relief  and 
comfort  by  which  we  may  lighten  the  burdens  of  our 
soldiers,  and  solace  those  who  return  from  the  camp 
or  the  battle-field  maimed,  crippled,  and  invalids. 
It  is  also  the  journal  of  one  who  carried  with  him  to  the 
service  tender  and  humane  fellow-feeling  for  his  com 
panions  in  peril ;  and  we  prize  it  for  the  unostentatious 
benevolence  and  kindness  which  it  breathes,  and  which 
made  the  author's  life  as  a  soldier  parallel  and  congenial 
with  the  quiet  scenes  of  pastoral  duty  from  which  only 
the  imperative  demands  of  a  holy  cause  could  have  led 
him  to  turn  aside.  While  the  work,  on  these  grounds, 
proffers  high  claims  on  the  public  regard,  it  is  believed 
that  its  literary  execution  is  worthy  of  the  reputation 
which  the  author  has  already  attained,  and  will  hereafter 
realize,  in  the  sacred  calling  to  which  he  has  consecrated 
his  powers  and  his  life. 

Less  than  this  we  could  not  say ;  more  than  this  we 
need  not ;  so  much  as  this  the  author's  modesty  would 
not  suffer,  were  this  Introduction  to  meet  his  eye  before 
it  becomes  indelibly  a  part  of  his  book. 

A.  P.  PEABODY. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Oct.  22,  1863. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 


PAOB 
9 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE     THRESHOLD. 

The  Tent  —Leaving  Camp  Miller.  — The  Steamer.  —  New  York.  — 
In  the  City  Hall.  —  Camp  at  Long  Island.  —  Discomforts.  —  The 
Rifle.— Dress-parade.  —  The  Colors 12 

II. 

THE     TRANSPORT. 

Embarkation.  —  The  Fifty-second  irate.  —  Breakfast.  —  Officers'  Ca 
bin.  —  Quarters  of  the  "Non-Coms."—  Where  the  Privates  go.— 
At  Sea.  — Night  in  the  Lower  Deeps.  —  Florida  Seas.— Burial  at 
Sea.  —  Grumblers.  —  Ship  Island.  — The  Ships  assembled.  —  New- 
Orleans 20 

in. 

THE     TWO     LEADERS. 

The  "St.  Charles."  —  Gen.  Banks.  — Gen.  Butler.  — The  Conquered 
City.  —  Nims's  Battery.  —  Baton  Rouge.  —  First  Taste  of  War.  .  89 

ix 


CONTENTS. 


IV. 

THE  DAY  OF  CLOUDS  AND  THICK  DARKNESS. 

PAGE 
Hospital-sights.  —  Two  Letters  Home 48 


V. 

SUSPENSE. 

Three  Dead  Men.  —  Some  Mirth  in  the  Regiment,  in  Spite  of  All.  — 
Tibbs.  —  Old  Grimes.  —  Cripps,  the  Drummer.  —  Private  Clout's 
Opinions  as  to  Honor  and  Chivalry.  —  Head-boards.  —  Battery- 
drill.  —  Rough  Diamonds.  —  Marching  Orders.  —  The  Fleet.  — 
The  Review. 


VL 

"INTO     THE     LION'S     MOUTH." 

The  Start  — The  Big  Caterpillar.  —  The  Bivouac.  —  There  is  Nothing 
New  under  the  Sun.  —  We  wilt.  —  Expected  Battle.  —  The  Cor 
porals  of  the  "Guard."  — The  Wounded  Colonel.  — The  Hostile 
Batteries.  — The  Fight  in  the  Night.  — The  Loss  of  the  "  Missis 
sippi."  84 

VII. 

FALLING     BACK. 

Despondency.  —  The  Rain.  —  The  Night  in  the  Swamp.  —  Pillage.  — 
The  Bayou  Montecino.  —  The  Cotton  Expedition.  —  Used  up.  .  /  W 

vni. 

THE     GARDEN     OF     LOUISIANA. 

Donaldsonville.  —  Assumpcion.  —  Princely  Estates.  —  Beauty  of  the 
March.  —  Thibodeaux.  —  A  Morass.  —  Bayou  Boeuf.  —  Brashear 
City. — A  Half-drowned  Country 110 


CONTENTS.  H 

IX. 

VICTORY. 

PAGE 

Writing  to  a  Cannonade.  —  The  "  St.  Mary's."  —  Packed  like  Slaves. 
—  Joe  Fray's  Coffee.  —  The  Skirmish. — The  Mother's  Petition. — 
The  Rainy  Night.  —  The  Bloody  Fight 123 

X. 

PURSUIT. 

The  Forced  March.  — The  Swoon.  —  " New  Iberia."— Too  Much  to 
be  borne.  —  Bayou  Vermilion.  —  The  Storm.  —  The  March  in  the 
Mud.  —  Opelousas 136 

XI. 

ON     THE     BAYOU     COURTABLEAU. 

Good  Spirits.  — In  " Durance  Vile."  —  The  Cotton  Mountain.— Ma 
rauding.  —  Negro  Camp.  —  The  distant  Bombardment.  —  Short  off 
for  Skirts.  —  The  "  Gobbler." 148 


xn. 

IN     THE     HOSPITAL. 

Alligators.  —  The  Atchafalaya.  —  Baton  Rouge  again.  —  The  Port- 
Hudson  Hospital.  —  The  Nurses.  — Tough  Work.  — The  Dreadful 
Task.  — Night  after  the  Battle.  —  The  Wounded  General.  — The 
"  Iberville's  "  Voyage.  —  The  Crowded  Pallets. —  Barclay.  — On 
the  March  again 163 

xm. 

BATTLE. 

Within  Cannon-range.  —  Clinton.  —  The  Naval  Battery.  —  Being 
shelled.  —  The  Midnight  Breakfast.  —  The  Cannonade.  —  DaAvn 
on  tie  Rebel  Rampart.  —  The  "Leaden  Rain."  —  Wounds  and 
Death.  ,  183 


ill  CONTENTS. 

XIV. 

THE     WOLF     AT     BAY. 

PAGB 

The  Vigil.  —  The  Flag  of  Truce.  —  The  "  Jackson  Skirmish."  —  In 
the  Sap.  —  Negro  Engineer  Troops.  —  The  Mine.  —  Cyrus  Stowell's 
Death  and  Burial 196 

XV. 

TRIUMPH. 

Fraternizing  of  the  Two  Armies.—"  Old  Thous'n  Yards."  — The  Last 
March.  — The  Perilous  Corner.  — The  Citadel 216 

XVL 

CONCLUSION. 

Death  of  Spencer  Phelps.  —  Tragic  Fate  of  Grosvenor.  —  The  River 
Journey.  —  "  Egypt." —  Marion.  —  Buffalo.  —  At  Home.  —  Strategy 
of  the  Campaign.  —  First  Movement  upon  Port  Hudson.  —  "  Raid  " 
through  the  Back  Country.  —  Investment  of  Port  Hudson. — The 
Two  Assaults.  —  The  Siege.  —  "Rough  Characters."  —  Concluding 
Remarks 230 


THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


INTRODUCTION. 

CAMP  MILLER,  GREENFIELD,  MASS.,  Nov.  13,  1862. 

DEAR  P ,  —  To-night  there  are  in  the  tent  at  least 

fifteen  men.  There  are  three  sets  of  men  playing  cards. 
I  sit  at  one  end  of  our  table,  close  under  the  shelving 
edge  of  the  tent,  with  head  bent  over  to  get  rid  of  the 
slant  of  the  canvas.  My  seat  is  a  heap  of  straw,  cov 
ered  with  a  blanket.  A  kerosene  lamp  gives  light  to 
me  on  one  side,  and  to  a  set  at  whist  on  the  other.  It 
is  cold  out  of  doors ;  but  the  tent  is  in  a  sweat,  with  its 
stove,  and  crowd  of  men.  Slap  go  the  cards  on  to  the 
table.  Every  moment  comes  up  some  point  for  debate. 
Throughout  the  tent  there  is  loud  and  constant  talk 
ing,  sometimes  swearing  ;  generally  good-natured,  some 
times  ill-natured. 

You  want  to  know  why  I.  have  left  my  pulpit  and 
parish,  and  enlisted.  I  had  several  reasons  ;  all  plain, 
simple,  and  sensible  enough.  I  have  believed  in  the 
war  from  the  first.  The  cause  of  the  North,  briefly,  is, 
to  me,  the  cause  of  civilization  and  liberty.  To  help 
this,  I  have  preached,  made  speeches,  and  talked  in 
private.  Ought  I  not  to  practise  what  I  preach? 

1*  [9] 


10  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Ought  I  to  shrink  from  encountering  perils  and  hard 
ships  which  I  have  urged  others  to  encounter? 

Then,  again,  having  no  family,  I  can  go  better  than 
many  others  in  our  village, —  men  liable  to  be  drafted, 
whose  means  are  straitened,  and  who  have  wives  and 
children  to  support.  These  are  my  main  reasons  ;  but, 
besides  these,  I  confess  to  a  love  for  adventure.  More 
over,  I  hope  to  gain  new  robustness  from  the  exposure. 
I  own,  also,  to  something  of  a  military  spirit.  In 
every  honorable  war  since  the  settlement  of  the  country, 
I  believe,  some  member  of  the  stock  from  which  I  am 
descended  has  taken  part.  Generally,  these  ancestors 
of  mine  have  been  in  very  humble  positions ;  although 
my  great-grandfather  held  an  important  command  among 
the  militia  at  Concord  Bridge,  and  did  much  toward 
keeping  the  "embattled  farmers"  firm  on  that  day 
before  the  British  volleys.  In  our  family  traditions  he 
is  an  illustrious  character,  together  with  his  brother, 
"Uncle  Ben,"  a  sturdy  husbandman,  who  fought  faith 
fully  that  day  throughout  the  long  pursuit,  and  afterward 
carried  a  heavy  old  blunderbuss  in  many  a  hard  cam 
paign.  I  own,  it  is  a  sort  of  fame  I  covet,  — to  have 
my  name  go  down  in  our  modest  family  annals  as  the 
parson,  who,  in  his  generation,  went  with  rifle  on  shoul 
der  to  Texas  or  Louisiana  or  the  Carolinas ;  doing  his 
duty  in  honorable  fields,  as  did  great-grandfather  and 
"Uncle  Ben"  of  old. 

I  trust  that  the  motives  I  have  put  first  were  the  ones 
that  influenced  me  for  the  most  part ;  but  these  last, 
too,  have  had  their  weight. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

Ed.,  my  young  brother,  you  know,  has  been  made 
first  sergeant  of  the  company.  He  goes  round,  there- 
fore,  with  a  broad  stripe  down  each  leg,  and  a  blue 
diamond,  with  a  triple  underscoring,  upon  each  arm,  — 
insignia  upon  which  we  poor  privates  and  corporals  look 
with  reverence.  I  am  now  one  of  the  eight  corporals 
whose  duty  it  is  to  guard  the  colors.  I  have  a  narrow 
stripe  running  down  each  pantaloon,  and  a  double  bar, 
or  chevron,  on  each  arm.  Ed.  and  I  button  up  to  the 
chin  in  our  blue  and  brass ;  and  are  a  brilliant  pair,  I 
assure  you. 

There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  now  about  our  going  with 
Gen.  Banks.  We  hope  it  will  be  soon ;  for,  although 
we  are  decently  comfortable  here,  we  should  prefer  some 
sweet-potato  patch  for  a  camp-ground,  to  this  pumpkin- 
field. 

Yours  very  truly, 

THE   "CORPORAL." 


12  THE    COLOK-GUARD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    THRESHOLD. 

Nov.  23,  1862. — I  propose  to  keep  a  diary  of  my 
soldiering,  and  am  now  making  my  first  entry.  Brother 
Ed.  and  I  are  going  to  the  war  together.  He  is  nine 
teen,  and  leaves  a  clerk's  desk  in  an  insurance-office.  I 
am  older,  and  leave  a  minister's  study.  It  is  the  52d 
Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers.  I  am  in  our 
little  tent  at  Camp  N.  P.  Banks,  not  far  from  Jamaica, 
in  Long  Island.  The  tent  is  perhaps  eight  feet  square, 
and  meant  for  seven  soldiers.  A  leg  of  ham  partly  de 
voured,  with  gnawed  loaves  of  bread  and  some  tin  cups, 
lies  just  at  my  right  foot.  Corporal  Buffum,  six  feet 
and  two  or  three  inches  tall,  is  writing  home,  just  at  the 
other  foot.  Joseph  McGill  is  sleeping,  wrapped  up  in 
his  rubber  blanket.  The  floor  of  the  tent,  at  the  sides, 
is  covered  with  knapsacks,  blankets,  and  soldiers'  furni 
ture.  Silloway,  a  black-whiskered,  fine-looking  soldier, 
puts  his  head  in,  but,  to  my  relief,  does  not  enter ;  for 
where  could  I  put  him  while  I  write  ? 

We  left  Camp  Miller,  where  the  Fifty-second  organ 
ized,  two  or  three  days  ago.  For  the  first  time,  the 
knapsacks,  full-loaded,  were  packed  on,  the  canteens 


THE    THRESHOLD.  13 

were  filled,  the  haversacks  were  crammed  with  two  days' 
rations.  It  was  a  heavy  load  as  we  set  off  in  a  cold 
November  rain,  nearly  a  thousand  of  us,  bending  over, 
and  with  pants  rolled  up.  It  rained  harder  and  harder  : 
but  Greenfield  streets  were  filled  with  people  ;  and  the 
nearer  we  came  to  the  depot,  the  thicker  the  crowd. 
Then  came  the  last  parting  and  hand-shaking  :  eyes  were 
full,  and  lips  on  a  tremble.  The  heart  came  out  grandly 
in  some  of  the  fellows. 

At  midnight  we  reached  New  Haven,  Ed.  had  been 
on  guard  at  the  car-door  in  the  drizzle,  and  now  came 
off  duty.  We  trundled  on  to  the  steamboat-wharf, 
climbed  out,  and  formed  in  two  lines  ;  many  of  the  boys 
turning  round  for  their  first  sight  and  sniff  at  salt-water. 
The  "  Traveller  "  was  at  hand,  aboard  which,  rank  after 
rank,  we  marched,  —  on  top,  between  decks,  into  cabin 
below,  and  saloon  above. 

The  morning  was  gray  and  wet.  It  poured  as  we 
stood  on  the  forward  deck ;  but  my  rubber  blanket  shed 
the  rain,  and  my  havelock,  of  the  same  material,  kept 
it  off  head  and  neck.  On  upper  deck  and  lower  deck, 
and  through  every  window,  one  could  see  the  crowding 
hundreds, — curious  faces,  bearded  and  smooth  ;  dripping 
blankets  and  caps ;  the  white  string  of  the  canteen 
crossing  the  band  of  the  haversack  upon  the  breast. 
Stout  fellows  they  were,  almost  all ;  the  pick,  for  spirit 
and  strength,  of  two  counties.  You  would  not  think 
men  were  scarce  ;  but  I  remembered  the  poor  old  village, 
and  its  Shakspeare  Club  of  fifteen  young  girls,  and  only 
one  young  fellow  available  as  a  beau. 


14  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Past  great  ships,  past  iron-clads  fitting  out  at  the 
Novelty  Works,  past  the  Navy  Yard,  now  down  between 
the  two  great  cities  and  around  the  Battery,  and  stop  at 
a  North-river  pier, — haversack  on  one  shoulder,  can 
teen  on  the  other.  "Now,  Silas  Dibble,  hook  on  my 
knapsack,  and  I  will  hook  on  yours ; "  rubber  blanket 
over  all ;  then  helmet,  with  the  long  flap  down  on  the 
shoulders.  The  march  begins.  Dirty  and  hungry  we 
go  through  the  muddy  streets.  I  tread,  almost,  in  old 
tracks  of  mine ;  no  longer  in  broadcloth  and  patent 
leathers,  but  with  the  iron  heel  of  war  well  greased  with 
neat's-foot.  Halt  in  the  Park. 

The  boot-blacking  business  is  stagnant.  The  "  Astor  " 
is  gray,  hard,  and  inhospitable  like  the  heavens. 
"Times,"  "Tribune,"  and  "World"  look  at  us  through 
all  their  windows,  as  if  they  were  hungry  for  an  item. 
It  pours  and  pours.  We  wind  in  a  long  string  across 
the  Park;  then,  in  a  long  string,  back  again  ;  then,  at 
the  end  of  all  the  purposeless  winding,  we  come  to  a 
purposeless  halt. 

Ankle-deep,  at  last,  through  the  mud  into  the  Park 
Barracks,  to  breakfast  on  coarse  but  wholesome  soup. 
Did  any  thing  ever  relish  so  ?  Then  they  take  pity  on 
us,  and  let  us  go  into  the  City  Hall,  whose  stone  cor 
ridors  we  swarm  through  ;  and  before  long  the  regiment, 
in  good  part,  is  asleep.  I  go  off  with  my  back  against 
a  marble  pillar.  By  and  by  we  must  fall  in  again.  Ed. 
is  irreverently  screaming,  "Fall  in,  Company  D!"  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  through  that  echoing  marble  centre 
of  metropolitan  splendor  and  dignity.  The  regiment 


THE    THRESHOLD.  15 

marches  up  Broadway,  is  cheered,  and,  I  believe, 
praised ;  and  climbs,  at  last,  into  the  great  barracks  in 
Franklin  Street. 

Next  day  we  have  a  march  before  us  of  eight  or  nine 
miles, — through  Broadway  and  Grand  Street,  over  the 
Ferry,  into  the  suburbs  ;  through  filth  and  splendor,  mud 
in  the  street,  brown  stone  and  marble  at  the  side.  The 
drums  at  the  head  of  the  column  hardly  sound  midway 
down  the  regiment,  through  the  roar ;  but  we  keep  our 
step,  and  dress  across  in  a  tolerable  line.  Past  factories, 
where  sooty  faces  crowd  to  the  doors ;  past  sugar- 
refineries,  where  men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  come  to 
the  windows ;  past  Dutch  groceries  by  the  hundred ; 
into  a  district  of  cabbage-gardens  at  last ;  then  into  a 
chaos  of  brick-kilns,  rope-walks,  and  desolate  grave 
yards. 

We  tramp  in  over  the  old  Union  race-track  at  length, 
upon  the  enclosed  grassy  space,  and  .are  at  our  camp 
ground.  Dreary,  dismal,  miserable.  No  overcoats ; 
all  perspiration  with  our  march  under  the  burden ;  no 
chance  for. tea  or  coffee,  or  any  thing  warm:  a  sorry 
prospect,  boys,  for  comfort  to-night.  But  never  mind. 
Behold  how  the  Yankee  will  vindicate  himself  in  the 
face  of  the  worst  fortune  !  Fences  are  stripped  of  rails  ; 
and  we  have  blazing  fires  in  no  time,  which  make  the 
inhospitable,  leaden  sky  speedily  blush  for  itself.  Rub 
ber  blankets  are  tacked  together,  and  tents  extemporized. 
Corporal  Buffum,  Ed.,  and  I,  strike  a  solemn  league. 
We  find  two  sticks  and  a  long  rail.  We  drive  the  sticks 
into  the  ground  for  uprights,  then  lay  the  rail  on  top. 


16  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Buffum  and  I  tack  our  blankets  together  with  strings 
through  the  eyelet-holes.  We  place  the  joining  along 
the  cross-timber,  letting  the  blankets  slope  away,  roof- 
fashion,  on  each  side  toward  the  ground,  fastening  them 
at  the  edges  with  pegs,  and  strings  straining  them  tight. 
Then  we  spread  Ed.'s  rubber  on  the  ground  underneath, 
put  our  luggage  at  one  end,  and  crowd  in  to  try  the 
effect.  We  have  to  pack  in  tight,  big  Buffum  and  Ed. 
not  leaving  much  room  for  me  ;  but  the  closer  the  better. 
The  north-wind  blows,  and  the  air  threatens  snow.  We 
survey  our  wigwam  with  great  admiration.  I  lie  down 
for  the  night  with  revolver  and  dirk  strapped  one  on 
each  side,  unwashed,  bedraggled,  and  armed  like  Jack 
Sheppard  himself.  We  freeze  along  through  the  hours. 
We  get  into  one  another's  arms  to  keep  warm  as  we  can, 
and  shiver  through  till  daylight. 

When  morning  comes,  all  is  confusion.  The  regi 
ment  looks  as  if  it  had  rained  down.  It  is  clear,  but 
raw.  No  chance  to  wash  now,  nor  all  day  long.  Our 
tents  come.  We  pitch  them  in  long  rows,  well  ordered  ; 
floor  them  from  fences  near  by ;  and  carpet  them  with 
straw  and  marsh  hay.'  Six  or  seven  of  us  pack  in  here 
like  sardines  in  a  box,  lying  on  our  sides,  "spoon- 
fashion." 

Nov.  26.  —  To-day  is  wretched  enough.  All  night 
long,  whenever  I  woke  up,  it  was  pitter-patter  on  the 
canvas  ;  and  this  morning  it  is  a  drizzle,  which  turns 
the  clay  outside  into  putty ish  mud,  — mud  which  plays 
Damon  ;  my  boot-soles  appearing  in  the  role  of  Pythias, 
- 1  earnestly  hope,  for  this  occasion  only ;  for  the  friend- 


THE   THRESHOLD.  17 

ship  is  too  fervent.  No  fire,  or  prospect  of  any ;  for 
the  load  of  hard  wood  which  was  pitched  off  in  front 
of  the  tents  yesterday  is  too  wet  to  be  kindled.  We 
have  heaped  the  straw  up  to  the  sides  of  the  tent,  and 
covered  it  with  blankets.  It  makes  a  good  seat  for  us ; 
and  four  or  five  of  us  are  writing  here,  our  feet  in  the 
central  space.  The  whole  thing  is  only  a  little  larger 
than  an  old-fashioned  four-post  bedstead.  Our  feet  are 
dove-tailed  in  among  one  another ;  the  boots  all  buff, 
clear  above  the  ankles,  with  sloppy  clay. 

Our  guns  were  issued  to  us  the  other  day,  beautiful 
pieces,  of  the  most  improved  pattern,  —  the  Springfield 
rifled  musket  of  1862.  Mine  is  behind  me  now,  dark 
black-walnut  stock,  well  oiled,  so  that  the  beauty  of 
the  wood  is  brought  out,  hollowed  at  the  base,  and 
smoothly  fitted  with  steel,  to  correspond  exactly  to  the 
curve  of  the  shoulder,  against  which  I  shall  have  to 
press  it  many  and  many  a  time.  Tht  spring  of  the 
lock,  just  stiff  and  just  limber  enough ;  the  eagle  and 
stamp  of  the  Government  pressed  into  the  steel  plate ; 
barrel,  long  and  glistening,  —  bound  into  its  bed  by 
gleaming  rings,  —  long  and  straight,  and  so  bright, 
that  when  I  present  arms,  and  bring  it  before  my  face, 
I  can  see  nose  and  spectacles  and  the  heavy  beard  on 
lip  and  chin,  which  already  the  camp  is  beginning  to 
develop.  Then  the  bayonet,  straight  and  tapering, 
dazzling  under  a  sun-ray,  grooved  delicately,  —  as  if  it 
were  meant  to  illustrate  problems  in  conic  sections, — 
smooth  to  the  finger  as  a  surface  of  glass,  and  coming 
to  a  point  sharp  as  a  needle. 


18  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

We  have  dress-parades  now ;  and,  the  other  afternoon, 
I  was  a  spectator  instead  of  taking  part.  The  Fifty- 
second  is  formed  four  deep.  I  have  often  seen  them  in 
line  at  Camp  Miller ;  but  now  we  have  our  arms,  and 
look  more  like  soldiers.  Four  deep,  and  how  long  the 
line  is  !  They  are  still  as  men  can  be  at  the  parade  rest. 
Now,  from  the  right  flank,  come  marching  the  drums 
down  the  line  ;  slow  time  ;  every  eye  to  the  front ;  the 
colonel,  hand  upon  sword-hilt,  facing  them  all, — tall, 
straight,  soldierly,  his  silver  eagles  on  each  shoulder. 
The  drums  have  reached  the  end  of  the  line,  and  turn. 
First  a  long,  brisk  roll,  thrice  repeated;  then  back 
along  the  line  with  quicker  time  and  step,  round  the 
right  flank  again,  past  the  adjutant ;  the  thrice-repeated 
roll  again  sounding  muffled,  as  it  comes  to  me  through 
the  now  intervening  line  of  men,  —  a  peculiar  throb,  as 
if  it  were  inside  of  the  head.  It  is  the  adjutant's  turn. 
He  is  at  his  place  in  front  of  the  line.  "  First  sergeants 
to  the  front  and  centre  !  "  Ten  soldiers,  strait,  sash  at 
waist,  march  forward,  and,  one  by  one,  report.  It  is 
Ed.'s  turn  now,  tall,  fine,  bright-eyed  soldier  that  he 
is.  His  gloved  hand  gives  the  salute ;  and  I  hear 
him,  through  the  music  of  other  regiments,  "  Fourth 
company  all  present  or  accounted  for."  Buttoned  up 
to  the  chin  he  is,  in  his  dress-coat;  his  sash,  with 
bright  revolver  belt,  outside ;  his  gun  at  his  shoulder 
with  true  martial  poise.  "  First  sergeants  to  your 
posts  ! "  It  is  the  turn  of  the  commissioned  officers. 
They  step  out  to  the  front,  in  full-dress  uniform,  a  fine- 
looking  row  of  men ;  then  march  forward,  with  brave, 


THE    THKESHOLD.  19 

unanimous  step,  in  a  brilliant,  glittering  line.  It  is 
over,  and  visitors  near  step  up  to  me  to  inquire  about 
the  regiment.  I  feel  proud  of  the  men,  proud  of  the 
colonel,  proud  of  the  brilliant  officers  who  have  marched 
forward  to  salute  in  concert, — the  white-gloved  hands 
simultaneously  at  the  visor.  Back  go  the .  companies 
into  the  streets  of  the  camp,  under  the  first  sergeants. 
I  am  proud  to  see  how  Ed.  gets  his  company  by  the 
flank,  and  promptly  mano2uvres  them. 

We  have  had  a  flag  presented  to  us  ;  but  it  is  too 
splendid  and  heavy  for  actual  service.  Our  real  flag, 
for  service,  is  more  modest,  and  yet  handsome ;  of 
silk,  floating  from  a  staff  of  ash ;  the  name  of  the  regi 
ment  printed  in  gold  upon  one  of  the  crimson  stripes. 
As  the  wind  comes  off  the  bay  to  us  at  battalion-drill, 
the  heavy  silk  brushes  my  cheek.  We  shall  know  each 
other  well  during  these  coming  months.  I  take  off  my 
bayonet, -and  invert  it,  that  it  may  not  wound  the  flag 
it  is  to  defend f  So  does  jovial  Bias  Dickinson,  the 
corporal  who  is  my  file  leader,  and  the  rest  of  the 
guard.  We  have  also  the  white  flag  of  Massachusetts, 
the  Indian  and  uplifted  sword  upon  a  snowy  field  ;  plain 
enough,  when  the  breeze  smooths  it  out,  for  the  senior 
captain  to  see  from  his  post  on  the  right  flank,  and 
Sergt.  Jones,  right  general  guide,  whose  post  is  still 
farther  off.  When  drill  is  over,  we  must  guard  our 
charge  to  the  colonel's  tent,  roll  the  crimson  and  azure 
folds  carefully  about  the  staff,  and  put  them  under 
shelter ;  then  our  day's  work  is  done. 


20  THE    COLOR-GUARD, 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    TRANSPORT. 

Nov.  29.  —  This  is  the  steamer  "Illinois,"  in  the 
stream,  about  half  a  mile  off  the  Battery.  The  ship  is 
preparing  to  sail.  Evening ;  and  by  special  courtesy, 
the  surgeon  being  absent,  I  am  invited  to  sleep  in  his 
berth  to-night.  No  slight  favor,  you  folks  whose  sheets 
are  clean,  to  have  a  mattress  softer  than  an  oaken-deck 
plank ;  and  a  place  to  lay  one's  head,  sweeter  than  a 
bundle  of  old  rope,  soiled  by  the  muddy  feet  of 
a  trampling  army.  I  stand  up,  portfolio  in  hand,  half 
sitting,  half  leaning,  against  the  cabin-table,  with  back 
toward  the  dim  light.  A  throng  of  officers  are  writing, 
talking,  and  hurrying  past.  Now  I  am  luckier  :  I  have 
found  a  stool  under  a  brighter  light,  and  the  cleanest 
and  best  place  I  have  had  to  write  my  journal  in  since 
I  began  it. 

Yesterday  we  marched  to  Brooklyn ;  then  went  off 
through  lanterned  vessels  at  dusk,  past  the  glowing 
city,  until  at  last  the  "Illinois"  threw  over  us  the 
shadow  of  her  black  hull  and  double  stacks.  We 
waited  an  hour  in  the  cold,  on  the  lighter ;  then  another 
on  the  open  deck,  among  the  gun-carriages  of  a  battery 


THE    TRANSPORT.  21 

that  was  going  with  us.  We  were  suffered  at  last  to 
crowd  into  the  cabin,  all  grumblers.  Ed.  could  hardly 
make  himself  heard,  though  his  lungs  are  good. 

The  wrath  of  the  regiment  vented  itself  in  every  form, 
—  the  oath,  the  deprecation,  the  remonstrance.  Tom 
Barker  fairly  blued  the  air  about  him  with  vocal 
brimstone  and  sulphur,  —  a  most  accomplished  and 
full-lunged  blasphemer.  From  him,  there  was  every 
gradation  down  to  a  little  fellow  who  remonstrated  with 
a  gentle  spill  of  milk  and  water. 

Camp  down,  soldiers,  where  you  can !  This  cabin 
is  stripped  of  furniture  and  carpet :  a  mirror  and  the 
white  paint  are  the  only  things  to  remind  one  of  the  old 
elegance  of  the  packet.  I  glance  at  the  glass  as  we 
crowd  in.  Which  am  I  among  the  bearded,  blue-coated, 
hustling  men?  I  hardly  know  myself,  sunburnt  and 
muddied ;  the  "52,"  on  the  cap  top,  showing  out  in  the 
lantern  light.  Sergt.  Warriner,  of  Company  A, — 
gentlemanly  fellow, — left  guide,  whose  elbow  rubs 
mine  at  battalion-drill,  offers  me  a  place  in  a  "bunk" 
he  has  found  empty  in  one  of  the  staterooms.  Bias 
Dickinson,  my  wise  and  jovial  file-leader,  bunks  over 
me.  There  is  room  for  another  :  so  I  go  out  to  where 
McGill  is  wedged  into  the  crowding  mass,  and  extract 
him  as  I  would  a  tooth.  Gradually  the  hubbub  is 
quelled.  The  mass  of  men,  like  a  river  seeking  its 
level,  flows  into  "bunk"  and  stateroom,  cabin  and 
galley.  Then  the  floors  are  covered,  and  a  few  misera 
ble  ones  hold  on  to  banisters  and  table-legs,  and  at  last 
the  regiment  swears  itself  into  an  uncomfortable  sleep. 


22  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Nov.  30.  — We  woke  up  the  morning  after  we  came 
aboard,  —  Warriner,  Bias,  and  I.  Company  D  woke 
up  generally  on  the  cabin-floor.  Poor  Companies  H 
and  F  woke  up  down  in  the  hold.  What  to  do  for 
breakfast?  Through  the  hatchway  opposite  our  state 
room-door,  we  could  see  the  waiters  in  the  lower  cabin 
setting  tables  for  the  commissioned  officers.  Presently 
there  was  a  steam  of  coffee  and  steaks  ;  then  a  long  row 
of  shoulder-straps,  and  a  clatter  of  knives  and  forks ; 
we,  meanwhile,  breakfastless,  and  undergoing  the  tor 
ments  of  Tantalus. 

But  we  cannot  make  out  a  very  strong  case  of  hard 
ship.  Beef,  hard-bread,  and  coffee  were  soon  ready. 
Bill  Hilson,  in  a  marvellous  cap  of  pink  and  blue,  cut 
up  the  big  joints  on  a  gun-box.  The  "non-coms," 
whose  chevrons  take  them  past  the  guard  amidships, 
went  out  loaded  with  the  tin  cups  of  the  men  to  Hen. 
Hilson,  —  out  through  cabin-door,  through  greasy, 
crowded  passage-way,  behind  the  wheel,  to  the  galley, 
where,  over  a  mammoth,  steaming  caldron,  Hen., 
through  the  vapor,  pours  out  coffee  by  the  pailful. 
Hen.  looks  like  a  beneficent  genius,  —  one  of  the 
"Arabian  Nights"  sort, — just  being  condensed  from 
the  smoke  and  mist  of  these  blessed  hot  kettles.  He 
drips,  and  almost  simmers,  with  perspiration,  as  if  he 
had  hardly  gone  half-way  yet  from  vapor  to  flesh. 

I  have  been  down  the  brass-plated  staircase,  into  the 
splendors  of  the  commissioned-officers'  cabin,  —  really 
nothing  great  at  all ;  but  luxurious  as  compared  with 
our  quarters,  already  greasy  from  rations,  and  stained 


THE    TRANSPOKT.  23 

with  tobacco-juice ;  and  sumptuous  beyond  words,  as 
compared  with  the  unplaned  boards  and  tarry  odors  of 
the  quarters  of  the  privates.  Have  I  mentioned  that 
now  our  places  are  assigned  ?  The  "  non-coms  " —  non 
commissioned,  meaning,  not  non  compos;  though  evil- 
minded  high  privates  declare  it  might  well  mean  that  — • 
have  assigned  to  them  an  upper  cabin,  with  staterooms, 
over  the  quarters  of  the  officers,  in  the  after-part  of  the 
ship.  The  privates  are  in  front,  on  the  lower  decks, 
and  in  the  hold.  I  promise,  in  a  day  or  two,  to  play 
Virgil,  and  conduct  you  through  the  dismal  circles  of  this 
Malebolge.  Now  I  speak  of  the  cabin  of  the  officers. 
The  hatches  are  open  above  and  below,  to  the  upper 
deck  and  into  the  hold.  Down  the  hatch  goes  a  dirty 
stream  of  commissary-stores,  gun-carriages,  rifled- 
cannon,  and  pressed  hay,  within  an  inch  or  two  of 
cut-glass,  gilt-mouldings,  and  mahogany.  The  third 
mate,  with  voice  coarse  and  deep  as  the  grating  of  ten- 
ton  packages  along  the  skids,  orders  this  and  that,  or 
bays  inarticulately  in  a  growl  at  a  shirking  sailor. 

Five  sergeants  of  our  company,  and  two  corporals 
of  us,  have  a  stateroom  together,  —  perhaps  six  feet 
by  eight.  Besides  us,  two  officers'  servants  consider 
that  they  have  a  right  here.  Did  any  one  say,  "  Elbow- 
room  "  ? 

Dec.  1.  — Each  man  now  has  his  place  for  the  voy 
age  assigned  him  :  so,  if  you  can  climb  well,  let  us  go 
down,  and  see  the  men  below.  It  is  right  through  the 
damp,  crowded  passage  at  the  side  of  the  paddle-wheel 
first.  Here  is  a  fence  and  a  gate,  impervious  to  the 


24  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

private ;  but  in  his  badge  the  corporal  possesses  the 
potent  golden  bough  which  gains  him  ingress  through 
here  into  Hades.  Just  amidships,  we  go  in  through  a 
door  from  the  upper  deck.  This  first  large  space  is  the 
hospital ;  already  with  thirty  or  forty  in  its  rough, 
unplaned  bunks.  From  this,  what  is  half-stairway  and 
half-ladder  leads  down  the  hatch.  A  lantern  is  burn 
ing  here ;  and  we  see  that  the  whole  space  between 
decks,  not  very  great,  is  filled  with  bunks,  — three  rows 
of  them  between  floor  and  ceiling,  —  stretching  away 
into  darkness  on  every  hand,  with  two-feet  passages 
winding  among  them.  "  Hullo  !  "  from  a  familiar  voice. 
I  look  up  and  down,  and  off  into  the  darkness.  "Hul 
lo  ! "  again.  It  is  from  overhead.  Sile  Dibble, 
sure. 

Here  is  another  corner,  behind  a  post,  where  is  the 
pock-marked  face  of  little  Hines.  (The  business  of 
Hines  has  been  that  of  a  "  gigger  :  "  puzzle  over  that,  as 
I  did.)  I  hear  the  salutes  of  men,  but  cannot  see  their 
faces ;  for  it  is  beyond  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  little 
lantern  to  show  them  up.  Presently  I  go  on  through 
the  narrow  passage,  with  populous  bunks,  humming 
with  men,  on  each  side, — three  layers  between  deck 
and  deck.  I  can  only  hear  them,  and  once  in  a  while 
dimly  see  a  face.  At  length  we  come  to  a  railing,  over 
which  we  climb,  and  descend  another  ladder,  into 
regions  still  darker,  —  submarine,  I  believe,  or,  at  any 
rate,  on  a  level  with  the  sea.  Here  swings  another 
lantern.  Up  overhead,  through  deck  after  deck,  is  a 
skylight,  which  admits  light,  and  wet  too,  from  above. 


THE    TRANSPORT.  25 

It  is  like  looking  from  the  bottom  of  a  well ;  and  pretty 
uncomfortable  is  the  truth  that  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
this  well. 

As  above,  so  here  again,  there  are  three  tiers  of 
bunks,  with  the  narrow  passages  among  them.  The 
men  lie  side  by  side,  with  but  two  feet  or  so  of  space ; 
but  are  in  good  spirits,  though  sepulchred  after  this 
fashion.  I  should  know  this  gray,  knit  cap,  with  its 
blue  button,  — McGill,  in  the  top  row,  his  toes  within 
easy  reach  of  the  beams  above ;  and  Silloway  comes 
crawling  over,  from  regions  more  remote,  to  shake 
hands.  Gottlieb,  our  small  German,  is  in  the  centre 
tier ;  and  in  the  lower  row,  just  above  the  bolts  of  the 
deck,  is  Gunn,  the  old  campaigner.  The  air  seems  not 
bad.  It  is  dark  in  the  day-time,  except  right  under  the 
skylight.  A  fortnight  or  so  from  now,  a  poor,  emaci 
ated  crowd,  I  fear,  it  will  be  proceeding  from  these 
lower  deeps  of  the  "Illinois."  I  go  back  with  an 
uneasy  conscience  to  our  six  feet  by  eight  up  above,  so 
infinitely  preferable  to  these  quarters  of  the  privates, 
though  five  big  sergeants  with  their  luggage  share  it 
with  me,  and  two  waiters  have  no  other  home  ;  so  that 
we  overflow  through  door  and  window,  on  to  the  deck 
and  floor  outside. 

Ed.  and  I  turn  in  at  half-past  eight,  lying  on  our 
sides,  and  interrupting  one  another's  sleep  with,  "Look 
out  for  your  elbow  I"  "I  am  going  over  the  edge  ! " 
"You  will  press  me  through  into  the  Company  C 
bunks  !"  This  morning  I  took  breakfast  in  the  berth, 
—  dining-room,  study,  and  parlor,  as  well.  There  is 

2 


26 


THE    COLOH-GUAKD. 


room  enough,  sitting  Turk-fashion,  and  bending  over. 
Sergt.  Hannum  carves  the  lump  of  boiled  beef  with  my 
dirk.  "  Jest  the  thing,  I  van  !  "  December  spits  at  us 
with  miserable  rain,  like  a  secession  lady.  The  steam 
of  the  officers'  soup  comes  up ;  but  the  gong  does  not 
mean  us. 

Dec.  2.  —  "Sail  to-day!"  That  has  been  the 
morning  song  aboard  the  "  Illinois  "  ever  since  the  Fifty- 
second  piled  itself  into  its  darknesses.  It  was  so  Satur 
day,  Sunday,  and  Monday.  We  came  to  believe  it  did 
not  mean  any  thing :  so,  Tuesday  morning  being  fair, 
Buffum  and  I  got  permission  to  go  ashore,  smiling  at 
the  superb  joke  of  the  officer  when  he  warned  us  to  be 
"back  in  a  couple  of  hours,  for  we  surely  sail  to-day." 
But,  when  we  came  aboard  again,  the  anchor  was  really 
up;  and  the  "Illinois,"  no  longer  twirled  by  the  tide 
about  its  thumbs,  began  to  show  a  will  of  its  own,  and 
was  soon  moving  seaward  with  its  deeply  burdened 
bosom  and  swarming  decks.  Our  orders  were  sealed, 
and  the  colonel  could  not  open  them  until  twenty-four 
hours  after  sailing.  We  could  not  know,  then,  until 
the  morrow,  whither  the  wheels,  the  tide,  and  the  strong 
stern-wind,  were  bearing  us;  but  the  prow  was  south 
ward,  and  the  Fifty-second  was  content.  Distance 
washes  the  spire  of  "  Trinity  "  out  of  the  northern  sky ; 
the  Narrows,  grim  with  forts  and  prisons,  now  grow 
narrower  ;  and  soon  Sandy  Hook,  the  beckoning  finger 
which  the  old  Navesink  hills  fling  out  for  ever  to  invite 
inbound  ships,  lets  us  slide  past  its  curving  knuckle 
fairly  out  to  sea.  All  goes  well,  with  no  motion  but 


THE   TRANSPORT.  27 

the  throb  of  the  engine.  They  light  the  lanterns  on 
the  wheel-house  and  in  the  fore-top ;  they  light  them 
between-decks,  swinging  gently  while  a  soldier  reads 
his  Testament,  or  a  party  play  cards. 

I  fear  we  are  reduced  to  the  condition  of  not  having 
a  single  unprincipled  fellow  in  our  present  mess  of  non- 
coms,  —  a  very  dire  calamity  to  a  party  of  campaigners. 
Rogers  is  a  man  of  character  and  dignity,  —  an 
ex  town-official ;  round-faced  Sergt.  Brown  is  far  too 
exemplary  to  grumble  much,  or  hook  dainty  morsels  of 
prog  for  himself  and  his  "  pals ; "  Hannum  never 
swears,  but  only  "  vans  "  and  "  vums  ;  "  while  Grosve- 
nor,  the  teacher,  has  walked  in  virtue  so  long  before 
his  pupils,  he  is  much  too  far  gone  ever  to  be  developed 
into  your  proper,  easy-conscienced  "  soger-boy."  When 
beef  is  scarce,  who  shall  bribe  the  cabin-waiters,  or 
steal  tidbits  from  the  galley  ?  Can  we  survive  it,  when 
the  coffee  fails,  not  to  have  one  at  least  to  be  mouthpiece 
to  the  collective  wrath  of  the  company,  through  whom 
we  may  vicariously  pour  our  choler  upon  the  commis 
sary? 

Dec.  3.  — I  resolve  I  will  try  a  night  with  the  men 
in  the  hold.  Elnathan  Gunn,  the  old  soldier,  invites 
me  to  share  his  bed  and  board.  Life  on  a  transport 
becomes  so  simplified,  that  bed  and  board  become  one  ; 
the  soldier  softening  his  plank  with  his  haversack  of 
beef  and  biscuit  for  a  mattress  and  pillow. 

'Tis  half-past  eight  at  night  as  I  climb  down  in  night- 
rig,  —  blouse  and  knit  cap,  with  round  button  at  the 
top,  like  Charles  Lamb's  "  great  Panjandrum  himself." 


28  THE    COLOK-GUARD. 

It  is  comfortable ;  but  Ed.'s  fraternal  partiality  turns  to 
disgust  whenever  I  put  it  on.  I  stoop  low,  —  it  is  the 
lowest  tier  of  bunks, — climb  over  two  prostrate  men, 
then  lie  down  sandwiched  helplessly  between  two  slices 
of  timber  above  and  below,  where  I  go  to  sleep  among 
the  raw-head  and  bloody-bone  stories  of  Elnathan  Gunn. 
I  wake  up  at  midnight  hot  and  stifled,  as  if  I  were  in  a 
mine  caved  in.  "  Gunn,  give  me  my  boots  !  "  Gunn 
fishes  them  out  of  some  hole  in  the  dark.  I  tug  at  the 
straps,  half  stifled,  bump  my  head  as  I  rise,  grovel  on 
my  stomach  out  over  two  or  three  snorers,  and  hurry 
through  the  dark  for  the  upper  deck,  thankful  that, 
being  corporal,  I  can  have  quarters  where  I  can  see  and 
breathe.  Through  the  cabin,  over  slumbering  drums 
and  drummers, — for  the  music,  too,  is  privileged  to 
remain  above,  —  then  in  by  the  side  of  Ed.  We 
heard,  at  noon,  we  were  bound  for  Ship  Island ;  and, 
while  I  am  hoping  for  plenty  of  air  and  good  weather 
the  rest  of  the  voyage,  down  shut  the  eyelids,  and  con 
sciousness  is  guillotined  for  the  night. 

Dec.  8.  — I  have  had  no  heart  or  ability  to  make  an 
entry  in  my  journal  for  days  and  days  ;  but,  this  morn 
ing,  sea-sickness  is  gone,  the  sea  is  smooth,  the  weather 
is  July  for  sun,  with  a  soft,  September  wind  breathing 
just  astern.  It  is  entirely  comfortable  for  me  to  sit  in 
my  shirt-sleeves  on  the  hurricane-deck.  How  sweet  is 
this  calm  and  soft  air !  The  white,  lighthouse,  at  the 
southern  point  of  Cape  Florida,  stands  three  or  four 
miles  to  the  west  of  us.  We  slide  on  rapidly  over 
coral-reefs;  the  water  blue  as  opal;  a  sail  here  and 


THE    TRANSPORT.  29 

there  on  the  horizon ;  and  in  the  distance,  like  round, 
green  bosses,  the  thickly  scattered  Keys  of  Florida,  — 
studs  of  chrysoprase,  with  which  this  sumptuous  south 
ern  sea  fastens  the  opal  covering  down  over  its  pearl-lit 
caves  and  coral  groves.  It  is  something  rare,  this  color 
ing  of  the  sea.  I  have  just  raised  my  eyes  to  look 
westward.  Close  at  hand,  the  water  is  blue,  with  the 
ordinary  deep-sea  tinge ;  but  just  beyond,  over  a  bar 
of  snowy  sand  it  must  be,  it  is  green  as  malachite, 
wonderfully  clear  and  living. 

Sunday  morning,  Brown,  who  rises  early,  came  back 
to  us  with  the  news  of  a  death  in  the  regiment  during 
the  night.  The  soldier's  body  lay  upon  the  hurricane- 
deck,  sewed  up  in  his  blanket,  ready  for  its  burial  in  the 
sea.  We  do  not  reach  Ship  Island  until  Wednesday  or 
Thursday  of  this  week,  and  shall  make  no  port  before. 

It  is  noon  when  the  funeral  takes  place.  I  am  lying 
in  my  berth,  still  weak,  when  I  hear  the  voice  of  the 
chaplain,  on  the  deck  just  over  me,  beginning  the  fu 
neral  service.  I  hurry  up.  They  swing  the  American 
flag  at  half-mast  just  over  the  body,  and  as  many  of 
the  regiment  as  it  is  safe  to  admit  to  that  part  of  the 
ship  stand  around.  The  service  is  very  impressive.  A 
choir  of  soldiers  sing  a  hymn ;  then  a  kinsman  of  the 
dead  man  lifts  the  plank;  down  it  descends,  weighted 
at  the  feet.  Tropical  fish  play  about  the  ship.  The 
northern  breeze,  right  from  home,  breathes  over  the 
ocean-grave ;  the  clear-green  sea  closes  above,  —  a 
sepulchre  of  emerald,  —  a  sad  and  sudden  end  for  the 
poor  Shelburne  boy. 


30  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

The  keel  of  the  ship  grates  upon  the  bottom.  The 
captain  jumps  to  the  wheel,  and  it  is  about  immediately, 
until  land  fades  again,  and  it  is  once  more  "  one  wide 
water  all  around  us."  The  sun  sets  gloriously  behind 
this  land  of  romance.  A  soft  crimson  haze  hangs  over 
the  land,  and  smokes  up  zenithward  like  rich  fume  and 
vapor  from  old  Ponce  de  Leon's  fountain  of  youth. 
A  splendor  of  cloud  and  light  is  thrown  upon  the 
west, — tall  buttressed  pillars  glowing  in  the  light,  as 
if  the  powers  of  the  air  had  begun  to  paint  there  the 
proud  escutcheon  of  the  Spanish  kings.  In  another 
moment,  I  shall  behold  the  crowned  shield  and  the 
rampant  lions  ;  but  it  fades,  and  now  to  the  eastward 
rises  the  moon.  The  sky  to-night  is  vapory,  with  fine, 
clear  lines  of  azure  running  through  the  vapor,  like 
veins,  — veins  how  blue  and  deep  !  as  if  filled  with  the 
blue  blood  of  the  true  Hidalgos  of  old  Castile. 

There  has  been  no  end  to  grumbling.  We  have  all 
been  sea-sick,  and  responsibilities  which  the  disor 
dered  stomach  ought  to  shoulder  have  been  thrown  on 
the  food.  This  brings  me  to  speak  of  what  I  have 
noticed  again  and  again  since  we  became  soldiers, — that 
the  first  to  complain  are  those  who  have  come  from  the 
poorest  circumstances.  Those  who  at  home  have  been 
forced  to  live  on  the  coarsest  food  are  now  first  and 
loudest  in  their  outcries  against  the  rations. 

Before  we  left  New  York,  McGill  and  I  clubbed 
together  to  buy  Prof.  Cairnes's  book,  —  "The  Slave 
Power ; "  a  purchase  I  am  glad  enough  we  made.  I 
have  read  the  book  attentively  during  the  voyage,  with 


THE   TRANSPORT.  31 

great  interest,  and  feel  now  doubly  strong  to  fight  for 
the  Union  cause.  I  respect  England  and  her  writers. 
I  have  been  accustomed  to  defer  very  much  to  English 
thinkers  ;  and  though,  in  the  exercise  of  my  most  con 
scientious  judgment,  I  could  not  help  thinking  our 
cause  was  right,  yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  feel  quite 
easy  and  satisfied  when  the  voices  of  intelligent  English 
men  seemed  so  generally  against  us.  It  was  very 
cheering  when  the  "National"  came,  a  few  months  ago, 
with  a  fine  article  on  our  side ;  then  the  "  Westmin 
ster,"  with  Mill's  strong  presentation  of  our  case. 
Now  here  is  this  new  book,  by  a  writer,  to  be  sure, 
who  seems  to  be  only  just  rising  into  note,  but  evidently 
a  man  of  very  fine  powers,  and  sure  to  wield  a  profound 
influence.  How  his  analysis  of  the  matter  carries  con 
viction  with  it !  How  plain  it  is  that  the  hopes  of 
civilization  depend  upon  the  triumph  of  the  North ! 
There  is  a  grand  sentence,  which  Cairnes  quotes  from 
De  Tocqueville,  to  the  effect,  "that  when  a  people  are 
striving  for  independence,  whether  the  effort  has  right 
or  wrong  on  its  side,  depends  upon  what  they  want 
independence  for,  — whether  to  govern  themselves,  or  to 
tyrannize  over  others."  "  Down  with  slavery  !  "  though 
I  own  my  sympathies  go  as  much  or  more  with  the  suf 
fering  whites  than  the  suffering  blacks.  I  believe  good 
has  come,  and  is  coming,  to  the  black  serf  through  his 
contact  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  though  it  has  been  so 
rough  and  harsh;  and  probably  the  suffering  of  the 
race,  great  as  it  is,  is  not  much  greater  than  it  would 
have  been  if  they  had  remained  in  unenslaved  barbarism. 


32  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

But  how  terrible  is  the  corruption  which  slavery  brings 
upon  the  master  class  !  Thanks  to  this  good  book ! 
Now  Dixie  —  Ship  Island  —  is  full  in  sight ;  and  I  can 
put  my  foot  confidently  upon  its  sand  if  we  come  to  land, 
buttressed  in  my  feelings  that  I  have  right  on  my  side, 
though  I  come  armed  against  its  owners. 

Dec.  14.  —  We  are  in  one  of  the  passes  of  the  Mis 
sissippi,  on  our  way  to  New  Orleans.  It  is  Sunday 
again,  —  our  third  aboard  the  ship,  —  and  a  most  lovely 
day  to  be  introduced  to  Louisiana.  It  is  a  perfect 
summer  day,  with  the  bulging  clouds  and  blue  sky  of  a 
hay-day  at  home,  though  there  is  breeze  enough  to  keep 
it  from  being  oppressively  hot.  We  only  hope  the 
"rebs"  are  as  much  in  the  dark  as  to  our  destination  as 
the  expedition  itself  and  the  people  of  the  North  gene 
rally. 

We  left  Ship  Island  yesterday,  —  Saturday ;  having 
lain  at  anchor  there  since  Thursday.  Sergt.  Hannum 
went  ashore  there,  and  came  back  smacking  his  lips, 
and  telling  great  stories  of  a  hoe-cake,  with  butter, 
which  he  bought  of  a  contraband.  He  must  have  had 
a  good  supper,  and  became  the  pet  and  star  of  the 
non-coms  for  that  evening,  who  made  him  repeat  his 
story  again  and  again,  endeavoring,  from  the  luscious- 
ness  of  his  descriptions,  to  realize  the  actual  sensations 
which  the  palate  of  the  lucky  sergeant  had  experienced. 

On  Saturday  morning,  in  came  huge  steamer  after 
steamer;  among  them  the  "North  Star,"  the  flag-ship, 
with  Gen.  Banks.  Boats,  with  staff-officers ,  sped  from 
vessel  to  vessel,  — one  to  ours  ;  and  news  presently  came 


THE    TRANSPORT.  33 

from  the  cabin,  we  were  to  sail  again  as  soon  as  steam 
could  be  raised. 

All  day  long,  transports,  laden  with  troops,  were 
arriving,  —  the  swift  "  Matanzas  ;  "  the  immense  "  Ara- 
go  ;  "  at  length  the  familiar  "Atlantic,"  in  which  I  once 
took  a  voyage  ;  she  and  her  consort  the  "Baltic,"  with 
others,  large  and  small.  The  decks  of  all  are  dark  with 
troops.  We  hear  from  some  the  drum  and  fife  ;  from 
others  the  strains  of  a  full  band  ;  and,  from  every  regi 
ment,  cheer  after  cheer  as  they  round  the  point  of  the 
island,  pass  in  among  the  ships,  and  finally  cast  anchor. 
A  gunboat  comes  up  ;  lies-to  off  the  point ;  and  present 
ly  up  at  the  fore  goes  a  string  of  flags,  one  over  the 
other,  —  at  the  top,  a  red  and  white  checker ;  then  a 
blue,  bisected  by  a  white  line ;  then  a  red  and  white, 
the  line  of  division  between  the  two  colors  running 
diagonally  from  corner  to  corner.  I  turn  my  head 
toward  the  men-of-war  lying  in  the  harbor,  and  see  that 
they,  too,  have  strings  of  flags  flying.  They  are  talking 
with  those  gay,  fluttering  tongues  across  the  intervening 
mile  or  two.  What  do  they  say?  Presently  the  slate- 
colored  hull,  with  the  black  guns  locking  from  its 
sides,  is  cutting  the  water  again,  and  she  casts  anchor 
among  the  fleet. 

There  is  no  lack  of  excitement  to-day.  By  noon, 
there  must  be  some  twelve  thousand  troops  at  the 
anchorage,  on  steamers  large  and  small. 

The  "North  Star,"  with  the  general,  weighs  anchor 
again,  the  blue  flag  of  pre-eminence  flying  at  the  fore ; 
then  the  "  Spaulding ; "  then  another  and  another ; 

2* 


34  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

until,  at  length,  our  turn  comes.  Kound  go  the  wheels 
again  :  we  pass  the  point,  and  are  at  sea,  the  "  Arago  " 
following  in  our  wake,  and  others,  whose  smoke  only 
we  can  see,  far  in  the  rear  of  her. 

Night  falls.  There  are  moving  lights  ahead,  behind, 
and  at  each  side,  where  the  ships  are  finding  their  way. 
Word  comes  up  from  the  cabin  that  we  are  bound  for 
New  Orleans,  but  not  to  stop  ;  and  we  remain  as  much 
in  the  dark  as  ever  about  our  final  goal.  It  only  leaks 
out  that  the  colonel  has  said,  "  No  one  yet  has  named 
our  true  destination."  Ed.  and  I  sit  on  deck,  as 
night  after  night  we  have  done.  Arthur  Sprague, 
Lieut.  Haskell,  and  one  or  two  others,  pour  out  far 
over  the  sea  some  Saturday-night  hymns,  in  which  I  am 
glad  to  join.  There  I  sit,  and  into  my  mind  come 
thoughts  of  the  world's  great  expeditions,  —  of  Mar- 
donius  in  a  purple,  Persian  galley,  with  the  other 
satraps  and  their  master  Xerxes  sweeping  down  to 
where  Themistocles  and  the  line  of  Athenian  triremes 
waited  for  them  at  Salamis  ;  then  of  the  great  Duke  of 
Medina  Sidonia  leading  his  armada  towards  St.  George's 
Channel,  while  the  Prince  of  Parma,  on  the  Netherland 
coast,  impatiently  watched  for  the  signal  for  launching 
forth  with  his  brave  Spanish  infantry.  Did  the  old 
Medean  spearmen  sit,  I  wonder,  with  dangling  legs, 
looking  as  unromantic  as  Corporal  Hardiker  there,  with 
his  greasy  pantaloons  half  up  to  his  knee?  or  did 
bearded,  old  musketeers,  in  casques  and  burgonets,  sing 
longs  of  Aragon  and  Leon,  as  we  sing  the  songs  of 
Tankee-land  ?  My  thoughts  are  not  auspicious,  I  fancy  ; 


THE    TRANSPORT.  35 

for  almost  every  expedition  that  comes  to  mind,  as  I  sit, 
goes  out  in  a  bad  cause,  and  ends  in  disaster.  I  would 
not  yield  my  cause  for  any  that  man  ever  upheld,  though 
BO  many  would  class  us  with  Persia  and  Spain  in 
injustice.  How  full  of  romance  are  these  seas,  with 
their  great  associations,  —  Balboa  and  De  Soto,  galleons 
with  glittering  adventurers,  buccaneers,  mariners  of 
Genoa  and  Portugal  in  gilded  argosies  ! 

Ed.  and  I  go  below,  to  wake  up  toward  daylight, 
and  find  the  engines  still,  and  hear  the  hoarse  shout  of 
the  gruff  third  mate,  "  Watch  !  "  as  he  heaves  the  lead. 
We  are  just  off  the  Bar,  at  the  mouth  of  one  of  the 
passes  ;  and,  when  we  come  on  deck,  the  pilot-schooner 
is  flying  from  one  to  another  among  the  fleet  of  steam 
ers, —  who,  like  us,  are  all  lying-to,  —  putting  her 
pilots  here  and  there.  We  take  on  ours.  In  a  mo 
ment  the  heaving  sea  is  behind  us,  its  blue  a  thing  of 
the  past ;  and  we  breast  the  sallow  current  of  the 
Mississippi,  with  coarse,  strange-looking  sedges,  ten 
feet  high,  on  the  banks ;  fish-huts  here  and  there ; 
spoonbills  flying  about  in  flocks  ;  and,  as  I  live,  a  peli 
can,  —  symbolic  bird,  — pocketing  fish  out  of  the  river. 
The  bank  gradually  begins  to  look  more  firm ;  though 
often  the  sea  stretches  away  close  at  hand  beyond  the 
narrow  ridge  of  earth,  which  is  the  only  shore.  To 
ward  noon,  we  reach  the  famous  forts,  whose  walls  are 
low,  but  covered  with  formidable  guns,  one  of  which 
gives  us  a  salute  as  we  come  up. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  we  pass  a  plantation, 
belonging,  so  the  pilot  says,  to  Judah  P.  Benjamin. 


36  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

It  is  one  of  the  finest  we  see  during  the  sail,  with  large 
sugar-houses,  comfortable  cabins,  and  a  stately  mansion. 
We  go  within  a  stone's-throw  of  the  groves  and  balco 
nies,  sweet  with  aromas  and  soft  breezes  as  the  haunts 
of  Circe, — the  nursery-spots  of  hideous  treason.  A 
crowd  of  negroes,  of  all  sizes  and  both  sexes,  rush  to 
the  bank  to  shout,  and  wave  their  hands.  The  only 
expressions  of  joy  we  witness  are  from  the  blacks  : 
indeed,  they  are  almost  the  sole  population  remaining 
here.  The  mules  in  the  cane-fields  are  driven  by  black 
drivers,  and  blacks  are  the  only  figures  we  see  about 
the  sugar-mills.  The  streets  of  negro  cabins  are  often 
populous  ;  but  the  master's  mansion,  almost  invariably, 
stands  with  no  sign  of  life  within  its  grove. 

We  go  below  for  supper.  When  we  return  to  the 
deck,  night  has  fallen ;  and,  in  front,  we  can  just  begin 
to  see  the  lights  of  New  Orleans.  To  the  right  of  the 
city,  in  the  heavens,  glares  a  conflagration,  red,  like  a 
great  light  we  saw  the  night  of  our  arrival  at  Ship 
Island,  said  then  to  be  toward  Mobile,  and  perhaps  the 
signal-fire  of  the  enemy.  Ed.  and  I  sit  on  the  paddle- 
box,  watching  the  light, — the  hostile  city,  in  chains 
and  under  our  cannon.  Now  we  are  close  upon  it.  At 
our  side  lies  the  "  North  Star ;  "  when  plunge  goes  the 
anchor,  with  its  rattling  chain,  in  twenty-five  fathoms 
water.  All  is  mystery  about  us,  except  that,  through 
the  night,  the  invisible  city  looks  at  us  through  its 
blinking  lights, — eyes  alone  visible,  like  the  wolf  that 
Putnam  followed  into  its  cavern.  The  "  United  States," 
the  "Boardman,"  and  other  vessels  of  the  squadron, 


THE    TRANSPORT.  37 

come  up.  The  fine  band  of  the  Forty-first,  on  the 
"North  Star,"  play,  "Twinkling  stars  are  laughing, 
love,"  and  other  pieces,  to  the  delight  of  all  the  trans 
ports.  One  of  our  fellows  offers  to  "swap  our  band 
for  yours  ;  "  which  goes  for  a  great  joke  aboard  the  "  Illi 
nois,"  we  being  rather  lame  in  point  of  music,  —  a  few 
drums  and  fifes,  with  a  most  limited  repertoire  of  tunes. 
A  certain  creeper,  the  pest  of  camps  from  time  imme 
morial,  has  made  its  appearance  on  the  "Illinois,"  as 
was  to  be  expected ;  and  been  the  staple  horror  of  the 
latter  part  of  the  voyage.  Of  course,  some  one  must 
yell  out  the  inquiry,  if  the  Forty-first  know  any  thing 
about  them.  The  answer  comes  pealing  back  across  the 
water :  "  We've  got  'em  with  U.  S.  marked  on  their 
backs."  So  go  the  jokes  through  the  evening. 

Dec.  15.  —  Morning  comes  after  a  night  almost 
sultry.  The  air  is  dead ;  and,  although  the  stateroom 
window  has  been  wide  open,  we  all  awake  in  a  perspi 
ration.  Daylight  drags  the  wolf  out  of  his  cavern,  — 
the  city  out  to  view.  We  find  we  are  rather  below  it ; 
opposite  a  pretentious  building,  which,  I  believe,  is  the 
Marine  Hospital.  In  the  course  of  the  morning,  we 
weigh  anchor,  and  sail  up  a  mile  or  so  ;  the  straight 
streets  opening  up  as  we  go  slowly  by,  looking  quiet, 
and,  with  the  wharves  and  buildings  along  the  Levee, 
forsaken  by  business.  We  pass  the  Cathedral ;  a  fine 
structure,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  with  a  square  in  front, 
and  two  buildings  of  a  mediaeval  appearance  on  each 
side,  —  convents,  perhaps  ;  then  long  sheds  and  mar 
kets.  At  length  we  are  opposite  the  Custom  House, 


38  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

—  which  has  the  revenue-flag  flying,  —  an  uncompleted 
building  of  Quincy  granite,  which,  they  say,  was  prov 
ing  too  heavy  for  the  soil,  sinking  downward,  until 
they  were  forced  to  stop  building. 

Here  are  the  great  peace-keepers  of  the  city.  After 
passing  two  French  war-steamers,  we  come  to  frigate 
after  frigate,  grim,  dangerous,  silent,  our  flag  at  the 
stern ;  with  formidable  batteries,  all  in  perfect  trim,  and 
trained  straight  against  the  city.  Blue  tars  crowd  the 
decks ;  watchmen,  with  spy-glasses,  are  in  the  tops. 
Should  secession  grow  rife  again,  and,  in  city  or  suburb, 
the  watch  behold  the  dust  arising  from  an  emeute  which 
the  soldiery  could  not  repress,  New  Orleans  would  be 
blown  into  shreds  and  splinters.  We  cast  anchor  again. 
As  the  day  goes  by,  we  buy  oranges,  ripe  and  sweet, 
from  boats  which  come  alongside ;  while  the  hope  of 
being  landed  during  the  day,  held  out  in  the  morning, 
fades  and  fades. 


THE    TWO    LEADEKS.  39 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE     TWO     LEADEKS. 

DEC.  16.  — I  am  writing  now  among  the  great  col 
umns  of  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  in  New  Orleans,  in  front, 
detailed  for  special  duty  at  head-quarters,  in  a  clerkship 
which  Gen.  B~\iks  offered  me  this  morning,  and  which 
I  have  accepted'  on  trial.  It  will  give  me  a  place  close 
by  the  general,  and,  I  hope,  a  good  opportunity  for 
observation  and  to  be  useful.  I  left  the  ship  last 
evening  just  at  dusk,  thinking  I  would  settle  the  matter 
at  once, — wait  upon  the  general,  present  my  letters 
of  introduction  and  credentials,  and  see  what  he  would 
do  for  me.  The  "  Illinois  "  had  hauled  up  to  shore.  I 
loaded  my  revolver,  climbed  down  the  wheel-house,  and 
made  my  way  up  through  the  streets,  toward  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel,  to  seek  my  fortune.  It  was  a  hostile 
city  :  but  the  sense  of  insecurity  which  I  had  when  'I 
landed  soon  wore  off;  for  people  were  invariably  polite 
when  I  made  inquiries  ;  and,  had  they  not  been,  soldiers 
of  the  Union  passed  me  at  every  few  rods ;  and  not 
unfrequently  I  came  upon  sentinels  posted  in  door 
ways,  on  sidewalks,  before  places  of  amusement.  Oc 
casionally  I  passed  buildings  which  seemed  very  fine  in 


40  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

the  dusk ;  and  at  length  the  stately  front  of  the  St. 
Charles  threw  its  glare  over  me,  as  I  ascended  through 
the  gas-light  into  the  rotunda.  Shoulder-straps  were 
innumerable  among  the  tall  columns,  —  double-breasted 
colonels  and  majors,  with  eagles  and  leaves,  —  and 
slimmer  captains  and  lieutenants,  with  the  single  row 
of  buttons. 

The  general  was  not  in  :  so  I  was  forced  to  wait  until 
this  morning,  though  I  ran  the  risk  of  losing  the  "  Illi 
nois,"  which  might  sail  any  hour,  leaving  me  with  my 
fate  undecided.  Soon  after  eight  this  morning,  forti 
fied  with  a  good  breakfast,  I  went  again  to  the  St. 
Charles.  The  general  was  at  breakfast.  I  sent  in 
my  name  on  a  card,  with  my  documents,  and  waited. 
In  half  an  hour,  perhaps,  an  unpretending  figure,  in 
blowze  and  loose  pantaloons,  with  felt  hat  and  shuf 
fling  slippers,  crossed  the  marble  floor  just  in  front  of 
me.  At  first,  I  did  not  notice  him.  His  appearance 
was  less  distingue  than  that  of  the  least  second  lieu 
tenant  among  the  columns ;  in  fact,  I  believe  even  the 
corporal  outshone  him  in  his  freshly  brushed  dress-coat. 
As  he  passed  opposite  me,  however,  I  saw  it  was  the 
general  going  to  his  rooms. 

He  is  out  of  sight  now,  and  I  wait  to  be  summoned. 
Wait,  wait.  If  he  comes  out  again,  I  determine  to 
waive  ceremony,  and  present  myself.  Here  he  does 
come  !  Up,  courage,  before  he  is  swallowed  by  shoulder- 
straps  !  I  touch  my  cap,  give  my  name.  He  is  very 
polite,  —  "  was  looking  for  me  ;"  and  I  presently  feel  at 
my  ease.  The  iron-gray  moustache  over  the  mouth  is  a 


THE   TWO   LEADERS.  41 

grim  and  formidable  archway,  but  from  under  it  pro 
ceed  pleasant  words.  At  present,  he  can  only  offer 
this  clerkship.  I  may  take  it,  and  wait  for  something 
better  to  turn  up.  He  leaves  me  to  think  about  it ; 
meantime  inviting  me  into  his  parlor,  where  I  sit  among 
eagles  and  stars,  who  come  and  go. 

Colonels  of  regiments  just  arrived  are  here  to  report. 
Major  Yarnum  reports  :  — 

"  I  am  paymaster,  sir.  I  have  brought  with  me  a 
million  dollars." 

"  Indeed ! "  (the  general,  with  a  pleasant  smile  and 
imperial  bow :)  "  then  we  are  all  glad  to  see  you, 
major." 

"  Major  So-and-so  is  coming  with  eight  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  more." 

"  Ah  !  then  we  shall  all  be  glad  to  see  him,  —  almost 
as  glad  as  to  see  you." 

The  general  withdraws.  I  make  up  my  mind  then  ; 
take  out  my  paper,  and  read,  while  the  adjutant-general 
and  his  clerks  (who  occupy  this  parlor  for  the  time 
being)  write  and  write.  The  general  appears  again, 
walks  across  the  room,  his  hands  behind  him,  and  face 
bent  down,  in  deep  thought.  He  is  just  about  to  meet 
the  municipal  authorities  of  New  Orleans,  —  an  impor 
tant  interview.  As  he  approaches  my  corner,  he  looks 
up,  and  smiles  affably.  I  tell  him  briefly  I  will  come 
on  trial,  —  not  to  stay  unless  I  choose.  I  am  then  in 
troduced  to  the  adjutant-general,  and  presently  retire 
to  the  shadow  of  these  great  columns  of  the  portico  : 
but,  before  I  go,  I  behold  the  general  in  full  blaze,  — 


42  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

double  star  on  each  shoulder,  double  row  of  buttons  in 
front ;  the  sash  of  his  office  about  his  waist,  which  the 
adjutant-general  steps  forward  and  adjusts.  As  I  pass 
out,  the  civic  dignitaries  are  entering,  —  a  body  of  gen 
tlemen  of  good  bearing  and  substantial  aldermanic 
appearance. 

I  have  also  an  opportunity,  just  at  night-fall,  to  con 
trast  the  setting  with  the  rising  sun.  In  the  afternoon, 
I  pass  the  handsome  mansion  occupied  by  Gen.  Butler 
as  his  head-quarters.  From  the  stoop  I  am  hailed  by 
name,  and  look  up  to  behold  Callighan  and  Pat  O'Toole 
of  our  company,  who  have  got  lost,  and  come  to  the 
guard,  before  the  door  here  at  head-quarters,  to  be  set 
straight.  I  go  up  on  to  the  roomy  stoop ;  and,  as  we 
stand  talking  by  the  sentry,  two  gentlemen  come  from 
within  to  the  door,  escorted  by  a  third  with  portly  figure 
and  thin  hair.  It  is  the  verge  of  evening,  and  I  cannot 
see  his  face  plainly.  "  Shall  we  say  at  half-past  four, 
then?"  It  is  Gen.  Butler,  making  an  engagement 
with  his  visitors  for  the  next  day.  He  goes  in.  I  hear 
a  door  close,  and  through  the  blinds  I  can  see  him  in 
an  elegant  parlor,  alone,  reading ;  the  gas-light  falling 
full  on  his  large  frame  and  rather  sinister  face. 

Dec.  19.  — In  camp,  within  the  memorable  town  of 
Baton  Rouge.  My  clerkship  at  New  Orleans  was 
short-lived.  I  found  my  associates  were  to  be  very 
coarse  men.  I  was  to  rub  constantly  with  commis 
sioned  officers  (many  young  and  thoughtless,  many  of 
them  high  in  rank),  among  whom,  in  my  position,  it 
would  be  hard  to  feel  independence ;  and  I  might  be 


THE   TWO  LEADERS.  43 

subjected  to  treatment  hard  for  a  man  of  any  spirit 
to  endure,  however  Christian  he  might  endeavor  to  be  : 
all  this  in  a  strange  city,  with  not  a  soul  to  go  to  for 
congenial  companionship.  I  slept  at  night  in  a  room 
appropriated  to  the  head-quarters'  clerks,  half  filled  up 
with  a  litter  of  confiscated  furniture.  Rising  early,  I 
packed  my  knapsack,  and  saw  my  superior  as  soon  as 
possible  ;  not  to  report  for  duty,  but  to  tell  him  I  pre 
ferred  to  remain  with  my  regiment. 

New  Orleans  I  found  a  pleasanter  city  than  I  ex 
pected.  Many  streets  have  fine  blocks,  and  a  few- 
buildings  are  really  handsome.  The  business  of  the 
city  must  have  been  immense  ;  though  now,  in  thorough 
fares  lined  with  stores,  and  once,  evidently  from  the 
look  of  the  pavements,  thronged  with  passers,  one's 
foot-step  echoes  hollow  from  deserted  buildings.  I 
was  treated  with  invariable  politeness  when  I  came  into 
contact  with  the  inhabitants  ;  though  I  wore  my  loaded 
revolver  under  my  coat,  and  slept  with  it  under  my 
pillow,  not  knowing  what  might  occur.  On  St. 
Charles  and  Canal  Streets,  I  saw  some  of  the  ladies  of 
the  city,  —  at  least,  so  I  judged  from  their  dress  and 
faces, — but  there  was  nothing  insulting  in  dress  or 
manner ;  and  I  was  informed  that  demonstrations  of 
that  character  had  long  since  ceased.  Many  of  these 
ladies  were  in  deep  mourning,  probably  for  relatives 
killed  in  the  Confederate  service. 

One  needs  to  have  a  long  purse  in  New  Orleans.  I 
believe  this  is  always  the  case,  but  especially  now,  when, 
the  river  being  closed,  the  city  depends  solely  upon  its 


44  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

environs  and  the  sea  for  its  supplies.  Even  the  fruits, 
which  we  expected  to  procure  very  cheaply,  cost  a& 
much  as  in  New  York,  though  orange-trees  and  the 
banana,  with  its  heavy  plume-like  leaf,  grew  in  almost 
every  garden. 

I  proved  it  to  be  true,  that  there  is  no  loneliness  like 
that  of  being  alone  in  a  great  city,  full  of  strangers  ; 
and  was  as  happy  as  I  care  to  be,  when  I  found  I  could 
depart.  The  "Illinois"  had  left,  and,  as  I  found  out, 
had  gone  with  the  regiment  still  further  up  the  river,  — 
to  Baton  Rouge.  I  was  to  take  a  river-steamer,  the 
"Iberville,"  chartered  by  the  Government,  and  about  to 
carry  up  the  river  the  famous  Second  Massachusetts 
Battery,  Capt.  Nims,  which  first  became  noted  at  this 
very  point  of  Baton  Rouge,  in  the  battle  of  August, 
1862.  I  bought  some  oranges,  got  my  knapsack  off 
with  the  help  of  a  brother-corporal  of  the  battery,  and 
took  my  seat  on  the  forward  deck,  just  over  the  hubbub 
of  the  embarkation,  to  see  the  polished  pieces,  the  fine 
stout  horses,  and  the  heavy  caissons  of  ammunition. 
In  this  battery,  the  orders  all  are  communicated  by  the 
bugle ;  whose  call,  horses  as  well  as  men  understand. 

I  sit  on  deck  beneath  a  June-like  sun.  A  crowd 
have  assembled  on  the  Levee ;  in  large  part,  of  contra 
bands.  Boys  cry  the  papers  with  Gen.  Butler's  fare 
well.  My  oranges  are  delicious  ;  more  sweet  and  ripe 
than  we  get  them  North.  Behind  me,  in  the  river,  lies 
the  "Hartford,"  with  Admiral  Farragut  on  board;  the 
"Mississippi,"  "Pensacola,"  and  the  smaller  gun-boats. 
In  the  distance,  down  stream,  lie  the  two  French  war- 


THE    TWO   LEADEES.  45 

ships,  and  the  "Rinaldo  "  flying  the  cross  of  St.  George. 
Up  stream  lies  a  steamer  with  the  flag  of  Spain,  — 
swarthy  watchmen  on  the  paddle-boxes,  the  space  over 
the  forecastle  crowded  with  sailors  of  the  same  hue. 
There  are  but  few  merchant-ships,  and  little  appearance 
of  commercial  bustle.  Big  artillery-men  (artillery-men 
always  look  strong) ,  Boston  boys  in  red-trimmed  jack 
ets,  wheel  the  light  cannons  aboard  the  ship.  These 
shining  pieces  are  no  dainty  holiday  affairs,  that  never 
go  out  of  arsenals  except  on  Fourth  of  July  or  after  an 
election,  and  then  only  belch  harmless  discharges. 
Each  one,  on  the  average,  has  probably  killed  its  score 
of  men,  and  wounded  perhaps  two  or  three  times  as 
many.  Smooth,  elegant,  polished,  quiet,  they  stand 
on  deck  like  elegant  French  swordsmen  I  have  read  of, 
who  go  with  dainty  rapiers,  almost  plaything-like,  soft 
as  silk,  but  dangerous  as  death. 

By  sunset,  horses,  men,  and  all,  are  aboard.  Cal- 
lighan  and  O'Toole  are  safe  at  hand,  glad  as  I  am  to 
go  to  the  regiment.  The  boat  swings  out  just  as  Gen. 
Banks  is  leaving  the  "  Hartford  "  from  a  visit  of  cere 
mony.  His  boat  shoots  forth  rapidly,  rowed  by  eight 
skilful  oarsmen  ;  and  from  the  ports  of  the  "  Hartford," 
now  one  side,  now  the  other,  roars  the  appropriate 
salute  of  thirteen  guns,  the  tremendous  report  making 
the  light  scantling  upper  works  of  the  steamer  I  am  on 
quiver  like  jack-straws. 

We  are  moving  rapidly  up  stream,  the  city  under  its 
guard,  the  closed  stores  and  crowd  of  negroes  going 
rapidly  behind,  while  sugar  plantations  on  both  sides 


46  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

* 

come  into  view  above.  Battery-men  tell  stories  of  the 
Baton-Rouge  fight,  — how  this  one  had  a  horse  shot  un 
der  him,  and  that  one  had  a  man  killed  at  his  side.  As 
evening  closes,  the  horizon  before  and  behind  is  lit  up 
with  immense  fires,  consuming  the  dried  and  crushed 
stalks  of  the  sugar-cane.  Pat  Callighan  and  their 
w  co-r-r-poral "  sit  under  the  stack  on  deck,  the  evening 
being  cool ;  while  an  Irish  sergeant  of  the  First  Louisi 
ana,  who  has  served  in  India,  tells  stories  of  the  skill 
of  the  Sikhs  at  Sobraon  and  Chillianwallah. 

Before  daylight,  the  boat  is  at  Baton  Rouge.  I  roll 
out  of  my  blankets  on  the  cabin-floor,  and  go  ashore. 
Climbing  up  the  Levee,  and  finding  there  Company  D 
just  finishing  breakfast,  having  slept  on  their  arms  all 
night,  I  feel  happy  enough  to  be  once  more  among  the 
fellows  ;  and  throw  my  knapsack  down  by  Ed.'s,  in  one 
corner  of  a  tent,  with  much  more  satisfaction  than  I 
should  have  taken  in  a  carpeted  parlor  in  New  Orleans. 

I  hear  of  the  warlike  experiences  of  the  day  before. 
It  seems  that  the  transports  (several  of  which  were  in 
company  after  leaving  New  Orleans)  followed  one 
another  in  close  line,  protected  by  gun-boats.  During 
the  night,  which  so6n  fell,  word  went  out,  that,  the  next 
day,  there  would  probably  be  fighting.  The  rifles  were 
got  out  of  the  boxes  in  the  hold,  loaded,  and  each  man 
supplied  with  forty  rounds^  of  cartridges.  There  was 
some  anxiety  in  the  regiment  (for  we  are  almost  entirely 
lacking  in  musket-drill),  but,  I  believe,  no  unmanly 
fear.  By  morning,  the  ships  were  opposite  Baton 
Rouge,  held  by  a  body  of  the  enemy.  The  famous 


THE   TWO   LEADERS.  47 

iron-clad  "  Essex  "  appeared,  to  re-enforce  the  squadron. 
Some  twenty  shell  were  fired,  mostly  by  the  "  Essex  ;  " 
the  Fifty-second,  for  the  first  time,  having  the  opportu 
nity  to  hear  the  booming  of  guns  of  large  caliber  and 
the  whistle  of  projectiles.  The  enemy  retired  imme 
diately  ;  whereupon  our  troops  were  at  once  landed  from 
the  transports,  and  posted  within  certain  old  intrench- 
ments.  These  were  thrown  up  last  summer  by  Gen. 
Williams,  and  run  zig-zag  through  the  town,  without 
respect  to  buildings,  streets,  or  graveyards. 


48  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
"THE  DAY  or  CLOUDS  AND  THICK  DARKNESS." 

JAN.  19. — One  by  one,  all  the  phases  of  military  life 
are  passing  before  me.  Camp  and  transport  life  I 
know, — picket  and  guard  duty,  and  the  routine  of  drill. 
For  a  month,  this  has  been  our  life,  —  a  tedious  and 
uneventful  season,  whose  incidents  it  is  idle  to  record. 
The  battle-field,  so  far,  has  kept  aloof  with  its  bloody 
terrors ;  but  now  I  am  face  to  face  with  a  chapter  of 
the  soldier's  life,  less  hideous  than  the  battle-field  per 
haps,  yet  full  of  sadness.  Suddenly  I  come  to  see 
hospital-service ;  and,  as  I  feel  to-iiight,  it  is  quite  pos 
sible  I  may  see  much  of  it :  for  while  there  is  so  much 
sickness  in  the  regiment,  and  I  continue  well,  perhaps 
I  can  best  employ  myself  in  nursing.  I  am  writing 
here  at  ten  at  night,  in  what  the  doctor  calls  my  "  ward ; " 
a  pleasant,  airy  chamber  belonging  to  the  officers  of  our 
company,  who,  however,  with  great  kindness,  have  given 
it  up  to  Ed.  and  Sergeant  Grosvenor,  who  lie  here  sick 
of  fever.  I  snatch  the  intervals  between  the  calls  of  my 
two  patients  to  write.  Two  of  our  men  sleep  here  on 
the  floor,  who  are  to  watch  part  of  the  night.  It  will 
be  an  hour  or  two  before  I  go  to  bed ;  and  I  may  have 
an  opportunity  to  write  a  good  deal. 


CLOUDS  AND  THICK  DARKNESS.         49 

My  first  visit  to  the  hospital  put  me  face  to  face  with 
its  gloomiest  spectacles.  A  mail  had  come,  and  it  fell 
to  me  .to  distribute  to  the  patients  their  letters.  I  had 
been  giving  letters  to  well  men,  had  my  own  pocket 
full,  was  happy  myself,  and  had  come  from  among  men 
happy  as  men  ever  are ;  for  I  have  discovered  the  secret 
of  happiness  to  be  hidden  in  mail-bags.  I  rushed  up 
the  stairs  leading  to  the  second  story  of  the  building, 
the  rooms  of  which  are  used  as  part  of  the  hospital. 
Two  or  three  doors  were  before  me.  I  opened  the 
first,  and  found  myself  alone  in  the  presence  of  a 
corpse.  It  was  the  body  of  a  man  who  had  died  the 
night  before.  He  lay  in  full  soldier's  dress,  decently 
brushed  coat  with  military  buttons, — his  "  martial  cloak 
around  him,"  —  and  with  a  white  cloth  covering  the 
face.  He  was  buried  in  the  afternoon ;  the  regiment 
drawn  up  in  a  hollow  square,  solemnly  silent,  while  the 
service  was  performed  ;  then  standing  reverently  while 
the  body  and  its  escort  with  the  muffled  drum  moved 
i^  *hs  burial.  I  have  heard  of  the  "  wail "  of  the  fife, 
but  never  made  it  real  to  myself  until  then,  when  across 
the  parade-ground,  down  the  street,  then  from  the  dis 
tance,  came  the  notes  of  the  "  Dead  March." 

In  the  next  room  to  the  one  in  which  lay  the  corpse, 
the  floor  was  covered  with  pale,  sick  men.  Now  they 
have  rough  bedsteads,  "bunks;"  but  then  there  was 
nothing  but  the  mattress  under  them,  and  sometimes 
only  the  blankets.  One  or  two  attendants,  as  many  as 
could  be  spared  from  the  regiment,  had  the  care  of  the 
whole  ;  but  they  were  far  too  few.  One  poor  man  was 

3 


50  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

in  a  sad  way,  with  inflammatory  rheumatism,  which 
made  it  very  painful  for  him  to  stir ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  with  dysentery,  so  that  he  required  to  be  lifted 
every  few  minutes.  Pale,  forlorn  men,  away  from 
friends,  tended  by  nurses  who  have  no  special  interest 
in  them,  and  are  overworked,  — crouching,  wrapped  up 
in  blankets  over  the  fire,  or  stretched  out  on  a  floor. 
God  pity  the  world  if  it  has  sights  in  it  more  melancholy 
than  a  military  hospital ! 

The  hospital  of  our  regiment  is  only  in  part  located 
in  these  rooms,  of  which  I  have  been  writing.  Most 
of  the  patients  (I  am  sorry  to  write,  they  are  very  nu 
merous)  are  in  a  larger  building,  once  a  hotel,  which 
lies  a  few  rods  outside  the  lines.  Well  do  I  know  the 
road  thither  now,  by  night  or  day,  by  storm  or  sun 
shine  ;  for,  after  the  doctor's  visits,  it  is  my  work  to  go 
to  the  hospital-steward  after  the  medicines  and  comforts 
for  my  sick  men.  How  many  times  already  have  I 
climbed  the  steep  clay  bank  of  the  parapet,  then  slid 
down  into  the  ditch  outside  !  —  a  hill  of  difficulty  in  bad 
weather,  when  one's  feet  slip  from  under  him  in  the 
slimy  soil.  The  old  bar-room  of  the  hotel  is  now  the 
hospital-kitchen  and  head-quarters  of  the  surgeon  and 
steward.  Above  the  bar  is  a  flaring  gilt  sign,  "Rain 
bow  Saloon ;  "  and  below  it,  along  the  shelves  which 
once  held  the  liquors,  are  arranged  the  apothecary 
stores  of  the  regiment.  The  steward  is  constantly  busy, 
—  one  of  the  hardest-worked  men  in  the  regiment,  I 

O 

believe ;  for  he  prepares  pills  and  powders  by  the  thou 
sand,  and  the  rattle  of  his  pestle  is  almost  constant. 


CLOUDS    AND    THICK    DARKNESS.  51 

In  the  rooms  above  lie  the  sick  men,  and  in  one  apart 
ment  the  surgeon  is  quartered.  Every  morning,  just  at 
light,  "  surgeon's  call "  is  beaten  ;  and  from  each  com 
pany  a  sergeant  marches  off  at  the  head  of  a  long  line 
of  sick  men  to  be  prescribed  for.  These  are  men  unwell, 
but  not  so  badly  off  as  to  be  obliged  to  leave  their  ordi 
nary  quarters  for  the  accommodations  of  the  hospital. 

Let  us  go  up  stairs  into  this  second  story.  At  the 
head  of  the  staircase,  the  door  of  a  room  is  ajar ;  and  I 
see  the  bed  on  which  generally  is  lying  one  of  the  sick 
est  patients  of  the  hospital,  some  man  near  to  death,  — 
a  comfortable,  canopied  bed,  a  death-bed  for  numbers. 
To-night,  poor  Paine,  of  our  company,  who  died  a 
little  while  ago,  has  just  been  laid  out  there.  An 
entry  runs  north  and  south,  from  which,  on  each  side, 
open  the  doors  of  other  sick-rooms,  where  men  with 
fever  and  dysentery,  with  agues,  and  racking,  lung- 
shattering  coughs,  lie  stretched  on  mattresses.  Here  is 
one  with  ghastly  fever-light  in  his  eyes  ;  there,  one  pale 
and  hollow-cheeked.  Wrapped  to  the  chin  in  blankets, 
some  are ;  some  parched  with  the  fire  of  disease,  — 
their  buttons  and  gay  dress-coats,  the  finery  in  which 
they  used  to  appear  at  dress-parade,  hanging  forlornly 
overhead. 

The  nurses,  too,  look  jaded  and  worn  :  and  no  won 
der  ;  for,  with  a  dismal  contagion,  the  torpor  and  weari 
ness  in  the  faces  about  will  communicate  itself  to  the 
attendants  and  visitors,  and  the  most  cheerful  counte 
nance  can  hardly  help  becoming  forlorn.  Our  chaplain 
and  colonel  (both  good,  energetic,  and  useful  men) 


52  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

make  it  part  of  their  daily  duty  to  go  to  every  couch, 
and  befriend  the  poor  fellows  lying  there ;  and  their 
visits  are  the  golden  hours  of  the  day  at  the  hospital*,  — 
waited  and  prayed  for.  The  doctor's  apartment  is 
large.  In  one  corner  are  piled  up  the  "  stretchers,"  the 
cots  with  handles  (half-bed,  half-bier) ,  which  are  meant 
to  carry  wounded  men  off  the  field.  At  daybreak,  each 
day,  this  room  is  filled  with  the  procession  which 
answers  the  surgeon's  call. 

Now  I  am  a  nurse  in  the  hospital ;  though  in  the 
room,  my  "ward,"  I  have  only  two  patients,  and  can 
make  things  more  comfortable  than  in  most  of  the 
rooms.  Only  two  patients  :  but  they  both  have  this 
terrible  fever ;  and  I  fear  (God  knows  how  much  I) 
for  this  young  brother.  Yet  I  must  veil  my  appre 
hension.  To-night,  a  letter  must  be  sent  North.  My 
heart  is  sinking ;  but  I  must  counterfeit  light-hearted- 
ness,  lest  they  take  alarm. 

To  the  Parsonage  in  B. 

DEAR  P., — We  are  lucky  fellows.  For  a  time, 
you  know,  Ed.  and  I  were  perfectly  well  and  hearty  ; 
and,  now  that  Ed.  has  had  to  give  up  for  a  while,  he  is 
probably  better  off  than  any  sick  man  in  the  regiment, 
and  is  doing  as  well  as  we  can  expect.  I  wrote  a  day  or 
two  ago,  that  Ed.  was  sick ;  thinking  he  would  be  bet 
ter  at  once.  It  turned  out  differently ;  and  now  he  is 
slipping  smoothly  through  a  fever, —just  about  as 
comfortably  off  as  he  needs  to  be,  with  every  this 


•g  so 


CLOUDS   AND   THICK   DARKNESS.  53 

far  going  well.  It  does  seem  at  a  distance  an  awkward 
thing  to  be  sick  in  camp,  and  generally,  I  suppose,  it  is  a 
hard  thing  for  a  soldier  to  be  taken  down ;  but  Ed.  is 
singularly  fortunate.  The  chaplain  offered  him  a  place 
in  his  room,  which  he  thought  would  be  more  comfort 
able  than  the  hospital ;  but  the  officers  of  the  company 
were  so  urgent  in  their  invitation,  that  Ed.  decided  to  go 
to  their  room.  So  here  we  are  to-night, — he  playing 
patient ;  and  I,  nurse. 

Grosvenor  is  sick  too,  —  fine  fellow,  —  the  graduate 
of  Amherst,  whom  I  mention  sometimes.  He  and  Ed. 
have  the  room  together  ;  and  the  colonel  has  detailed  me 
temporarily  for  hospital-service,  to  have  special  charge 
of  this  pair  of  sergeants.  You  know  I  am  an  old  hand 
at  nursing.  I  find  I  take  to  i\  again  with  real  zest, 
like  a  fish  to  its  pond.  Ed.  ai  1  Grosvenor  are  both 
sleeping  quietly  now,  each  on  his  bunk  comfortably 
fitted  up  with  a  soft  mattress  of  moss  and  all  necessary 
coverings.  The  surgeon  is  skilful,  and  close  at  hand 
all  the  time ;  the  hospital-stores  contain  all  the  neces 
sary  medicines  ;  and,  for  comforts,  you  ought  to  see  the 
pile  of  oranges  and  lemons  on  this  table  here  !  Or 
anges,  not  such  half-ripened,  pale  fellows  as  you  see 
North,  but  the  "  raal"  article,  pumpkins  in  color,  and 
almost  in  size.  Ed.  has  just  been  smacking  his  lips 
over  some  cold  lemonade  sucked  up  through  a  mint- 
julep  straw,  and  is  looking  forward  to  beef-tea ;  a  cup 
ful  of  which,  nicely  made  as  can  be  by  old  Winders, 
the  hospital  cook,  who  takes  an  interest  in  us,  stands 
on  the  bench  yonder.  Moreover,  there  is  toast-water, . 


54  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

fine  loaf-sugar,  choice  tea,  right  here  at  hand,  and 
gruel  whenever  it  is  wanted.  Ed.  sleeps  on  a  feather 
pillow  which  I  managed  to  get ;  and,  as  I  said,  sucks 
his  nourishment  through  a  mint-julep  straw  :  not  be 
cause  he  is  obliged  to,  but  because  he  prefers  to  take  it 
easy,  —  lie  flat  on  his  back,  or  any  way,  and  take  his 
dinner,  which,  under  the  persuasion  applied  by  means 
of  the  mint-julep  straw,  will  pliantly  mount  any  hill,  or 
turn  any  corner,  to  find  that  "  right  spot "  to  which  we 
like  to  have  things  go  exactly.  So  you  see  Ed.  is 
about  as  well  off  as  he  could  be  anywhere,  all  things 
considered ;  and,  in  some  respects,  better :  for  he  has 
the  mint-julep  straw,  —  an  article  which  savors  of  the 
"  enemy,"  and  which,  therefore,  never  did  profane,  and  I 
presume  would  never  be  allowed  to  profane,  the  virtuous 
precincts  of  the  manse ;  and  yet  an  article  (O  our 
friends  !)  to  be  cherished  for  its  magic  mastery  over 
lemonade  and  beef-tea.  So  you  see  Ed.  is  well  doc 
tored  and  well  nursed.  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  it. 
For  myself,  my  health  is  perfect ;  and  I  take  precautions 
to  keep  it  so,  so  far  as  I  can. 

Ed.  has  waked  up.  He  sends  much  love,  and  talks 
about  Mark  Tapley,  the  "jolly  man  ; "  who,  when  he 
was  too  sick  to  speak,  wrote  "jolly"  on  a  piece  of 
paper.  That  appears  to  be  about  his  frame  of  mind. 

BATON  ROUGE,  Jan.  26. 

DEAR  P. ,  —  This  evening  is  really  the  first  time  when 

fatigue  and  work  give  me  some  respite,  and  I  can  begin 

.to  give  you  the  sad  particulars,  —  how  our  much-beloved 


CLOUDS   AND   THICK   DARKNESS.  55 

Benjamin  went  from  earth  into  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 
Tears  and  convulsive  sobbing  are  now  over  with.  I 
am  calm,  as  I  begin ;  and  perhaps  I  can  go  through  the 
detail  with  the  gathering  of  no  film  and  the  trembling 
of  no  nerve.  I  am  left  here  forlorn  ;  my  pride  and  joy 
taken  from  my  side.  It  is  evening  now.  I  still  am  in  the 
house  where  he  died,  —  a  deserted  house  now ;  its  only 
tenants  to-night  being  Robert  Bodwell  (the  good  fellow 
who  helped  me  nurse  him)  and  I.  We  are  not  in  the 
room  where  he  died,  but  just  across  the  hall,  in  the 
chamber  where  we  went  after  we  had  laid  him  out,  that 
we  might  watch  close  at  hand,  and  yet  not  intrude  upon 
his  solemn  sleep  in  death.  The  clouds  are  dark,  and 
the  wind  blows  damp  and  chill  from  the  northward, 
across  the  fresh  turf  upon  his  grave,  then  against  -these 
shutters.  The  last  duty  now  is  done.  In  the  centra 
of  the  floor  stands  the  box  in  which  I  have  packed  his 
things,  —  knapsack  and  cap,  clothing  and  canteen,  and 
soldier's  blanket,  —  all  worn  and  marked  as  he  wore  and 
marked  them ;  but  they  will  be  all  the  more  precious 
for  the  stain  upen  the  woollen,  the  hole  in  the  garment, 
the  rust  upon  the  blade. 

The  first  complaint  of  sickness  which  he  made,  I  re 
member,  was  a  fortnight  ago  this  very  day.  We  were 
ordered  to  stand  under  arms  an  hour  before  breakfast. 
It  was  raw  and  dark ;  and  the  companies,  shivering  and 
with  empty  stomachs,  were  severely  drilled.  I  recall, 
that,  when  he  came  in,  he  sat  down,  —  the  new  morning 
light  showing  his  fatigue,  —  and  said,  "  It  was  too  much 
for  him :  the  double-quick  caused  nausea,  and  almost 


56  THE    ct>LOR-GUARD. 

made  liim  vomit."  Still,  through  that  day  he  was 
about  his  work,  as  usual, — at  every  drill,  and  calling 
the  roll  at  night  by  his  lantern's  light,  wrapped  in  his 
blue  overcoat.  Tuesday  he  was  too  sick  for  duty.  He 
complained  of  weakness  and  dizziness  whenever  he 
attempted  to  stand ;  but  his  spirits  were  good,  and  I 
never  imagined  it  could  be  more  than  a  temporary 
illness,  he  has  been  so  constantly  well, — "the  stoutest 
fellow  in  the  company,"  as  they  said  when  he  was  sick. 
He  lay  still  on  the  floor  of  the  tent  all  day,  — he  and 
Sergeant  Grosvenor,  who  was  sick  in  the  same  way,  — 
his  rifle  just  at  his  head,  polished,,  and  ready  for  service ; 
his  constant  companion,  but  henceforth  to  know  him  no 
more,  except  during  one  brief  half-hour,  when,  in  the 
midst  of  the  uncovered  and  weeping  regiment,  it  lay, 
with  his  belts  and  crimson  sash,  upon  his  coffin-lid  I 
remember  he  was  full  of  jokes  even  then ;  and  I  did 
not  notice,  as  others  did,  that  his  cheek  was  unhealthily 
flushed,  and  his  breath  too  short.  At  night,  as  we  lay 
side  by  side,  I  threw  my  arm  around  his  neck,  and  re 
member  now  how  hot  and  dry  his  face  was,  and  how 
short  his  breath.  Hannum,  who  is  an  experienced 
nurse,  startled  me  in  the  morning.  He  thought  Ed. 
might  have  a  fever.  He  was  plainly  sick,  and  our 
company-officers  sent  for  him  to  come  at  once  to  their 
quarters.  That  Wednesday  morning,  Ed.  and  I  to 
gether  left  the  tent,  came  slowly  along  the  pleasant 
river-bank,  with  the  plantations  beyond,  —  his  last  little 
walk  on  earth,  —  climbed  the  stairs,  and  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  room  now  so  hallowed. 


CLOUDS   AND  THICK   DARKNESS.  57 

Daily  he  became  weaker  and  weaker.  He  was  soon 
unable  to  raise  himself;  and  when,  in  the  afternoon,  the 
fever  ran  high,  and  it  was  time  to  bathe  him,  it  was 
hard  work  to  push  up  his  solid  young  shoulders  till  he 
sat  upright,  and  then  hold  him  propped  against  my 
breast  till  he  was  arranged.  Then  the  heat  of  the 
fever  !  I  would  pass  the  cloth,  Vet  with  cooling  spirit, 
over  his  skin ;  and  presently  it  would  flame  with  red, 
as  if,  poor  boy  !  his  life  within  him,  beleaguered  by  dis 
ease,  threw  out  the  crimson  hospital-flag  to  win  for 
bearance.  He  became  delirious  too,  though  not  often 
wildly  so  ;  sometimes  calling  the  company  to  "  fall  in," 
sometimes  crying  out  "  to  save  the  colors,"  as  if  in 
battle ;  and  I  remember,  too,  he  talked  of  all  of  you. 
Still,  there  was  less  of  delirium  than  stupor.  His 
hearing  and  sight  grew  dull,  and  his  mind  apathetic  : 
yet  I  believe  he  always  knew  me ;  and  he  showed  a 
touching  confidence  that  I  would  do  just  what  was  best, 
which  started  the  tears  more  than  once. 

The  morning  of  the  day  before  he  died,  I  thought 
there  was  great  improvement.  His  mind  was  clear, 
and  he  had  passed  a  quiet  night  without  an  opiate. 
His  pulse,  I  thought,  was  slower  and  stronger ;  and  I 
moved  about  him  light-hearted.  He  asked  again  and 
again  to  be  bathed.  He  was  not  very  feverish  ;  but  the 
doctor  had  told  me  to  let  his  inclinations  guide  me  :  so 
at  length  I  yielded,  and  gave  him  a  bath.  Robert  and 
I  had  found  a  bedstead  in  another  room,  broader  than 
nis  bunk,  which  I  thought  would  be  so  much  more  com 
fortable  for  him,  that  we  took  it.  After  his  bath,  he 


58  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

seemed  so  well,  that  we  moved  him  to  his  new  bed. 
Then  I  tucked  him  in  all  clean  and  sweet,  ready  for  the 
doctor's  visit ;  feeling  sure  there  would  be  encourage 
ment.  Ed.,  however,  now  began  to  show  great  ex 
haustion  ;  and,  when  the  doctor  came,  there  was  an 
ominous  silence.  I  feared  we  had  done  too  much,  with 
the  bathing  and  moving  :  but  the  doctor  made  light  of 
them,  saying  he  had  seen  some  symptoms,  the  night 
previous,  of  a  tendency  to  congestion  of  the  lungs ; 
which  symptoms  he  now  found  much  more  -marked. 
After  the  doctor  left,  Ed.  grew  rapidly  more  weak, 
until,  in  my  alarm,  I  sent  for  him  again.  He  made 
use,  at  once,  of  violent  tonics  and  stimulants,  —  quinine 
and  brandy,  — and  had  recourse  to  that  expedient  which 
always  seems  to  me  so  desperate,  —  chest-blistering. 
We  wrapped  his  feet,  too,  in  cloths  soaked  in  mustard- 
water.  The  extremities  began*  to  grow  cold  and  clam 
my,  and  I  felt  that  the  dear  boy's  hours  were  numbered, 
I  went  out  a  few  minutes  for  the  air,  and  wandered 
helplessly  along  the  river-bank,  overwhelmed  with 
agony, — he  sinking  away  from  me  into  a  gulf;  and, 
though  I  reached  and  yearned  after  him  with  all  my 
love,  it  was  no  cord  that  could  support  him  or  draw 
him  back  to  me.  About  noon,  the  chill  and  torpor  in 
which  he  had  lain  some  hours  gave  way  to  fever  and 
delirium.  He  laughed  and  shouted  wildly  with  the 
crowd  of  phantoms  who  came  trooping  to  him  in  his 
morbid  dream,  and  clutched  convulsively  at  the  coverlid. 
While  Ed.  had  been  sinking,  Mr.  Grosvenor  had  been 
recovering ;  so  that  now  both  Robert  and  I  could  be 


CLOUDS   AND   THICK    DARKNESS.  59 

constantly  at  his  side.  We  gave  him  cooling  drinks, 
and  the  powerful  medicines  the  doctor  had  prescribed. 
Ed.  showed  no  sign  of  pain ;  and,  though  delirious, 
recognized  us  when  we  spoke  to  him.  His  voice  con 
tinued  to  have  its  strong,  vigorous  sound.  I  could 
hardly  control  myself  sufficiently  to  keep  at  his  bedside  ; 
but  I  choked  back  my  grief.  There  was  still  hope  :  he 
was  young  and  strong,  and  might,  after  all,  rally ; 
but  his  breathing  was  very  bad,  and  his  galloping  heart 
could  not  keep  its  pace  without  soon  being  exhausted. 
In  the  evening,  a  friend  I  could  trust  came  in,  and  in 
sisted  I  should  go  to  bed  while  he  took  my  place  ;  pro 
mising  to  call  me  if  there  should  be  any  change.  I  lay 
down  in  this  room  where  I  am  writing  now,  just  across 
the  hall  from  his  chamber.  Once  or  twice  in  the  night 
I  woke  up,  and  could  hear  his  voice,  strong  and  firm, 
through  the  closed  door. 

The  morning  of  the  fatal  Saturday,  Jan.  24,  came 
at  last.  I  was  in  the  room,  refreshed  by  my  night's 
rest,  at  seven  o'clock.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again  " 
was  his  greeting,  spoken  very  earnestly.  He  was  pale 
and  wasted,  though  his  eye  and  countenance  had  the 
old  natural  look.  I  lay  down  at  his  side,  with  my  head 
by  his  pillow  ;  a  post  I  hardly  left,  except  to  give  him 
medicine  or  nourishment,  until  the  last.  About  eight, 
the  doctor  came,  but  saw  little  change  from  the  night 
previous.  He  continued  the  same  treatment,  and  still 
had  hope.  Ed.  was  uneasy,  but  in  no  apparent  pain. 
He  would  ask  to  be  moved  or  lifted,  or  suggest  some 
thing  he  thought  might  give  him  comfort ;  but,  if  it  was 


fiO  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

impracticable,  he  would  give  it  up,  yielding  most  sweet 
ly  and  tenderly  to  every  suggestion  of  mine.  "  Oh ! 
never  mind ;  just  as  you  say,"  with  a  softness  and  trust 
in  his  tone  and  look,  I  cannot  think  of  without  a  sob. 

And  now  ten  o'clock  was  approaching.  I  had  thrown 
open  the  windows  and  blinds  to  receive  the  summer  air 
of  the  day.  The  sun  was  just  veiled  by  white  vapor, 
the  river  flowed  calm  and  full,  and  the  sound  of  bugles 
and  bands  came  in  from  the  camps  a  mile  away.  I  lay 
at  his  side  as  before.  Mr.  Grosvenor,  a  fine  man  and 
full  of  sympathy,  now  convalescent,  sat  before  the  fire 
with  Robert.  The  sick  man  became  more  quiet,  and 
his  breathing  changed.  The  hand  of  death  was  upon 
him.  I  hastily  put  a  cup  of  brandy  to  his  lips,  which 
he  swallowed  with  difficulty.  I  sent  Robert  at  once  for 
the  doctor ;  and  he  had  hardly  left  the  room  when  the 
dear  boy's  spirit  went  upward.  There  was  no  agony  or 
spasm ;  one  or  two  short,  quick  breathings,  and  all  was 
over,  —  the  minute-hand  just  pointing  to  the  second 
minute  after  ten. 

He  went  from  earth  calm  in  mind,  and  composed,  — 
painless,  fearless,  hopeful  to  the  end.  He  sent  you  no 
messages  of  love.  I  wish  it  had  been  otherwise ;  but 
the  angels'  arms  were  around  him  ere  we  were  aware. 
After  all,  perhaps  it  was  as  well  there  should  be  no 
parting  pang,  —  no  disappointment  as  his  hopes  fell ; 
though  I  believe  he  would  have  faced  his  fate  with  all 
his  noble  courage,  and  with  high  faith  and  trust. 

A  short  paroxysm  of  grief,  and  I  was  calm  enough  to 
go  forward  with  what  was  to  be  done.  The  chaplain 


CLOUDS    AND    THICK   DARKNESS.  61 

came  in,  full  of  the  sympathy  of  a  brother ;  so  the  doc 
tor.  An  experienced  nurse  came  over  from  the  main 
hospital.  I  bathed  the  straight,  sinewy  limbs  for  the 
last  time.  We  clothed  his  tall  figure  in  the  familiar  sol 
dier's  suit, — the  brave  young  limbs  and  shoulders  in 
their  own  loyal  blue.  I  wiped  his  lips  and  cheeks,  and 
smoothed  his  locks.  I  took  from  his  finger  his  little 
ring.  Presently  the  coffin  came.  I  helped  to  bring  it 
up  stairs  and  lay  it  by  him.  The  captain  came  in,  and 
paid  his  tribute  of  tears  above  the  corpse  of  his  old  right- 
hand  man ;  then  he,  I,  and  a  fellow-sergeant,  lifted  him 
gently  ;  put  his  blouse,  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  for  a 
pillow ;  then  laid  him  tenderly  in  his  coffin  ;  smoothing 
softly  his  garments ;  brushing  with  reverent  care  every 
speck  of  dust  away;  putting  in  view  his  sergeant's 
badge, — the  diamond  trebly  underscored, — to  which 
office  he  did  honor. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  I  went  to  the  burying-ground, 
where  lie  the  dead  soldiers  of  our  regiment,  to  choose 
the  best  spot  for  him.  The  ground  lies  a  few  rods  east 
of  the  old  United-States  Arsenal  Buildings ,  and  was  once 
a  cemetery  of  the  city,  though  now  it  is  used  for  the 
interment  of  soldiers.  Five  or  six  fresh  graves  lay  in 
a  row, — Roberts,  Thomson,  Culver,  and  last  our  own 
Paine ;  large,  high  mounds,  and  at  the  head  an  oaken 
board  with  name,  regiment,  and  date.  The  row  begins 
near  the  fence,  and  runs  northward.  The  fence  is  of 
wood,  thi^yiy  covered  with  a  climbing  rose  ;  a  dense,  lux 
uriant,  beautiful  vine,  full  of  bright-green  leaves,  with 
the  seed-vessels  still  remaining  from  the  former  blossoms. 


62  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

It  wraps  the  palings  so  they  can  hardly  be  seen ;  then 
droops  over  upon  the  ground,  and  spreads  its  tendrils 
toward  the  soldiers'  graves.  Just  over  the  fence,  out 
side,  stands  a  thick,  venerable  tree  (beech,  I  believe), 
whose  limbs  are  swathed  heavily  with  the  funereal  gray 
moss.  From  the  foot  of  the  graves,  the  ground  goes 
downward  in  a  rapid  slope.  The  spot  has  not  the  beauty 
of  a  cemetery  carefully  cared  for  ;  but  it  is  not  unlovely. 
Perhaps  it  is  not  inappropriate,  that  a  short  distance  off 
runs  the  line  of  intrenchments,  through  embrasures  in 
which  silent  cannon  watch  day  and  night.  I  chose  for 
the  grave  a  spot  left  vacant  close  by  the  fence,  where 
the  vine  could  droop  directly  over  it,  and  the  rose-leaves 
could  fall  upon  it,  and  the  tree,  with  its  mossy  harps, 
could  pour  its  sighing  requiems  above  it.  I  marked  the 
spot ;  and  Sergeant  Hannum,  with  four  who  loved  him, 
presently  had  dug  his  resting-place. 

The  funeral  was  to  be  on  Sunday,  at  noon.  I  sat,  in 
the  evening  of  the  day  he  died,  with  Robert,  when  pre 
sently  came  steps  on  the  stairs  ;  then  Capt.  Morton,  with 
Sergeant  Warriner  and  Arthur  Sprague,  both  fine  sing 
ers,  came  in.  They  knew  him,  as  the  whole  regiment  had 
known  him ;  and  Capt.  Morton,  to  do  him  honor,  ten 
dered  the  escort  of  his  company,  while  the  other  two 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  arrange  a  fine  choir  with  appro 
priate  music.  I  have  not  mentioned,  that,  during  Ed.'s 
sickness,  the  camp  of  the  regiment  had  been  moved 
from  the  river-bank  into  a  wood  in  the  subujjjs  of  the 
town.  The  tents  had  gone  from  the  river-bank,  and 
the  officers  had  left  the  house ;  so  that,  during  the  last 


CLOUDS   AND   THICK   DARKNESS.  63 

days  of  his  life,  Ed.  and  his  watchers  in  the  upper  cham 
ber  were  alone  in  the  house. 

Sunday  came,  fragrant  and  balmy.  The  heavens 
were  full  of  clouds,  like  angels'  wings ;  no  parching 
heat,  but  grateful  air,  inspired  with  all  sweet  odors. 
Spring  birds  sang  in  the  trees.  In  solemn  calm  poured 
the  great  river  before  the  windows  where  he  slept.  In 
good  time,  around  the  corner  of  the  building,  came 
young  first  Sergeant  Bertram,  Ed.'s  familiar  friend, 
marching  at  the  head  of  the  escort ;  all  with  burnished 
arms.  They  halt  in  front  of  the  house.  Bias  Dick 
inson  and  Henry  Morton  come  up  stairs,  and  help  me 
arrange  on  his  coffin-lid  his  equipments.  Lie  there, 
eagle  that  he  bore  upon  his  broad  breast ;  and  there, 
shining  badge  with  which  he  clasped  his  belt ;  now  his 
well-kept  gun,  and  here  the  sash  and  cap.  For  the  last 
time  I  smooth  his  hair,  compose  his  limbs  and  dress, 
that  he  may  seem  to  his  comrades  truly  to  lie  like  a  "  war 
rior  taking  his  rest."  Now  replace  the  lid,  and  let  eight 
of  your  strongest  lift  the  burden. 

"  Slow ;  for  it  presses  heavily : 
It  is  a  man  ye  bear!" 

Down  the  stairway  he  had  climbed  a  fortnight  before, 
with  halting  feet,  through  the  garden  in  front ;  now 
into  his  hearse.  His  guard  of  honor  stand  with  arms 
reversed ;  half  to  march  in  front,  half  behind ;  broad 
platoons  of  young  soldiers,  with  downcast  faces.  Across 
the  parade-ground  slowly  now.  How  well  it  had  known 
his  vigorous  foot-beat !  Now  through  the  rampart  and 


64  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  streets  of  the  town,  —  the  bells  of  the  Catholic  church 
meantime  tolling  for  service,  — past  the  frowning  peni 
tentiary,  into  the  shade  of  trees,  until,  at  length,  we 
saw  the  tents  of  the  regiment.  A  majestic  temple  we 
had  brought  him  to.  Magnolias,  with  broad,  rich  foli 
age,  ever  green,  and  trees  hung  with  moss,  formed  lofty 
aisles  with  intersecting  branches  :  and  within  one  of  these 
we  placed  him ;  trembling  shadows  passing  upon  his 
pall,  his  weapons  and  belts  and  badges  of  office  lying 
on  the  lid.  I  could  not  trust  myself  to  look  around  : 
but  my  eye  fell  upon  field-officers,  their  eyes  shaded  with 
their  hands ;  and  from  behind  me,  where  our  company 
was  arranged,  I  heard  the  sound  of  much  sobbing. 
How  have  you  told  me,  comrades,  that  you  loved  him  ! 
Manly  Rogers,  happy-hearted  Brown  and  Hannum,  his 
fellow-sergeants, — from  you,  from  captain  and  all,  there 
is  no  dearth  of  sympathy. 

The  service  begins.  The  chaplain,  with  a  broken 
voice,  reads  the  selections  ;  then  came  the  grand  hymn, 
"Mourn  not  that  his  kin  are  far,"  Warriner  and  Brown 
ing  and  young  Cyrus  Stowell  and  first  Sergeant  Arms 
of  B.  The  notes  rose  and  swelled,  and  mingled  with 
sweet  tree-whisperings  and  the  sobs  of  soldiers.  Their 
voices  choked,  and  they  had  to  wipe  the  tears  away  to 
see  the  words.  "  Warriner,  let  me  have  your  copy." 
Is  it  not  a  grand  requiem  for  a  young  soldier  ?  — 

"  Mourn  not  that  his  kin  are  far, 
While  we  lay  him  in  the  grave ; 
For  his  fellow-soldiers  are 
Loving  brothers  of  the  brave. 


CLOUDS   AND   THICK   DARKNESS.  65 

And  his  tender  mother  here 
Shrouds  him  as  a  warrior  thus : 
'Tis  his  country,  loved  so  dear, — 
Mother,  too,  of  all  of  us. 

Sleeping  soft,  the  youth  shall  lie 
Calmly  here  beneath  the  sod, 
Where,  a  living  sacrifice, 
He  his  body  gave  to  God. 

Now  let  martial  music  sound ! 
Beat  the  dead-march  for  the  brave ! 
Lower  him  gently  in  the  ground ! 
Fire  a  volley  o'er  his  grave !  " 

And  now  the  prayer  is  said.  Captain,  take  his  arms 
and  belts.  He  is  through  with  them.  This  little  bunch 
of  Southern  lilies,  fragrant  as  his  memory,  I  have  further 
use  for.  I  take  them  into  my  hand  from  the  pall. 
Now,  Grider,  the  blacksmith,  and  Prime,  stout  Pocum- 
tuc  farmer,  and  the  rest,  take  him  in  your  arms  again, 
and  to  his  hearse.  The  wail  of  the  dead-march  and 
the  painful  throb  of  the  muffled  drum  !  I  love  him  and 
magnify  him ;  and  it  sounds  to  me  like  the  agonized 
heart-beat  of  the  genius  of  his  country  who  had  lost 
him.  Slow  through  the  glades  of  the  forest :  the  sun 
of  noon  strikes  down,  as  we  reach  the  street,  upon  the 
shining  arms  of  the  escort,  and  the  hundred  young 
men,  the  mourners  who  march  behind.  Slowly  and 
tenderly ;  and  now  the  little  hill  is  climbed,  into  the  ceme 
tery,  and  the  dead-march  ceases.  Lay  him  here  on  this 
convenient  tomb  ;  the  last  prayer  ;  then  choir  of  youths, 
w  Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God."  How  sweet !  how 
soft !  We  have  taken  off  his  coffin-lid  again  :  straight 
and  tall  he  lies  at  full  length.  His  head  is  turned  a 


66  THE    COLOK-GUARD. 

little  to  one  side,  and  his  lips  wear  a  soft  and  natural 
smile. 

"  They  that  have  seen  thy  look  in  death, 
No  more  may  fear  to  die." 

His  brothers  in  arms  march  in  order  to  take  the  last 
look  :  then  it  is  my  turn.  Beautiful  in  death  !  The 
ghastliness  of  the  fever  is  in  great  part  gone.  The 
features  are  emaciated  somewhat,  and  the  mouth  rather 
more  compressed  than  usual,  giving  to  the  nose  a  fine 
Roman  curve ;  not  enough  to  be  unnatural,  and  yet 
wonderfully  dignifying  the  face,  —  a  faint  foreshadowing 
of  the  fine  mien  and  presence  into  which  the  boy  might 
have  matured.  I  know  I  am  showing  brotherly  extrava 
gance  :  but  now  the  thought  comes  to  me  of  the  eager 
youth  leading  his  charge  ;  and,  as  heretofore,  the  passage 
comes  into  my  mind,  from  Henry  IV.  I  think  it  is,  "I 
saw  young  Harry  with  his  armor  on ;  beautiful  as  the 
herald  Mercury  new-lighted  on  some  heaven-kissing 
hill !  "  Something  like  that,  I  believe  ;  so  lithe  of  limb  ; 
so  free  and  strong  and  jocund ;  a  young  winged  god  of 
the  Greeks  !  I  would  rather  have  had  him  fall  in  bat 
tle  ;  but  I  know  him  to  be  just  as  much  a  brave  martyr 
to  exposure  and  faithful  work  in  the  cause  :  and  hereaf 
ter,  if  conflict  is  joined,  and  his  old  charge  come  face  to 
face  with  the  foe ;  when  they  stand  with  steady  disci 
pline,  and  overwhelm  assault  with  rattling  tide  of  fire,  -— 
to  him  be  in  part  the  honor,  though  he  lie  cold  in  death  ! 
I  have  my  lilies  in  my  hand,  now  upon  the  pillow  right 
here  by  his  cheek,  one  for  each  one  of  us ;  then  a  deep, 
warm  kiss  upon  the  brow,  and  the  leave-taking  is  over. 


CLOUDS    AND    THICK    DARKNESS.  67 

They  held  aside  the  climbing  vine,  and  lowered  him  in 
his  grave.  Suddenly,  at  the  word  of  command,  a  line 
of  shining  barrels  was  levelled  over  him,  then  a  loud 
volley,  telling  through  the  camps  and  town  afar  that  a 
soldier  was  at  rest.  Three  times  it  was  repeated,  send- 
in  o-  echoes  far  over  the  river  and  back  into  the  forest  to 
o 

the  outmost  solitary  vidette ;  then  all  was  done. 


68  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTEE    V. 

SUSPENSE. 

AFTER  the  funeral,  I  felt  much  prostrated ;  but  it  was 
best  to  keep  employed.  Kobert  and  I  kept  our  familiar 
quarters,  where  at  night  we  could  be  warm  and  dry  :  an 
important  matter  now  ;  for  at  evening  it  grows  very  cold, 
and  much  rain  falls.  Water  was  convenient,  too,  for 
the  washing  which  it  was  necessary  to  do  ;  and  I  could 
pack  at  leisure  the  things  I  wished  to  send  North.  In  a 
few  days,  all  this  was  done.  I  took  my  farewell  of  the 
apartment  where  Ed.  died,  now  stripped  to  its  bare 
walls  ;  and,  not  being  quite  in  condition  to  go  into  the 
woods  to  camp,  I  accepted  the  doctor's  invitation,  and 
spent  a  day  or  two  last  week  in  his  private  room.  In 
one  corner  lay  the  stretchers,  ready  for  the  wounded 
men ;  in  another,  a  patient  sick  of  fever.  By  night,  I 
could  hear  the  shouts  of  the  delirious  patients  from  the 
corridors. 

I  saw  three  bodies  lying  together  on  the  roof  of  the 
veranda  of  the  building,  overlooking  the  street.  A 
little  breath  of  air  came ;  and  the  covering  was  turned 
down  from  the  face  of  one,  a  member  of  our  company, — 
his,  and  yet  not  his,  —  a  fine  fellow,  a  favorite  of  Ed.'s, 


SUSPENSE.  69 

at  whose  feet  he  now  sleeps.  One  of  the  others  be 
longed  to  us  too,  —  a  boy  I  knew  well.  He  will  never 
see  again  his  pretty  cottage-home  under  the  trees  by 
the  Connecticut.  The  chaplain  was  sick  the  day  of  the 
funeral :  so  I  conducted  the  service  for  these  two  at  one 
time,  after  dark,  under  the  moon.  We  were  forced  to 
bury  them  hurriedly,  for  it  was  late  ;  and  I  fear  with  less 
of  a  feeling  of  solemnity  than  we  once  had  at  such  oc 
casions.  I  believe  it  is  true,  that  the  edge  of  sensibility 
grows  dull  through  use,  even  in  the  case  of  these  sad 
Experiences.  Funerals  have  been  so  frequent  of  late, 
sometimes  three  or  four  a  day,  that  they  lose  their  im- 
pressiveness  in  part. 

Pray  Heaven  the  sickness  is  spending  itself !  There 
are  signs  that  it  is  so.  It  has  raged,  for  the  most  part, 
among  the  youths  under  twenty,  whose  immature  fibre 
appears  to  afford  more  congenial  harbor  for  the  pesti 
lence  than  the  frames  of  the  older  men.  Almost  all 
the  deaths  have  been  among  the  boys.  The  death-list 
is  really  not  as  large  as  is  often  the  case  in  camps.  We 
do  not  suffer  as  some  Maine  regiments  are  suffering 
close  by  us ;  but  it  is  large  enough  to  cast  a  shadow, 
and  make  us  all  feel  the  insecurity  of  life. 

My  record  has  been  almost  entirely  of  deaths  and 
hospitals  the  last  few  weeks  ;  but  now  let  me  turn  from 
these  things.  We  are,  after  all,  not  a  gloomy  set ; 
though  skies  are  so  dull,  and  health  so  uncertain.  The 
spirits  of  the  men  are  often  high,  and  there  is  much  fun 
going  forward.  A  great  character  in  the  camp  is  one 
Tibbs,  a  fellow  with  many  crotchets  in  his  brain,  — too 


70  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

many  for  it  to  remain  in  a  normal,  healthy  state,  —  and 
who  really,  perhaps,  ought  hardly  to  have  been  passed  at 
the  medical  examination ;  but  he  is  a  fellow  of  infinite 
jest,  and  his  pranks  and  sayings  keep  up  the.  spirits  of 
the  regiment.  He  has  wit ;  and  when  that  fails,  in  his 
blunt  talk,  he  blunders  often  into  capital  hits,  hitting 
right  and  left,  sparing  no  one,  from  the  colonel  down. 
The  other  day,  a  large  hollow  tree  had  been  cut  down, 
and  a  group  of  officers  stood  looking  at  the  hollow. 
Tibbs  came  up  beside  them,  and  peered  with  his  queer 
whiskered  face  into  the  hole.  "  That 's  a  big  hollow, 
Tibbs,"  said  one  of  the  group  of  officers.  "Well, 
yes,"  said  Tibbs  ;  "  and  next  time  we  have  the  long  roll, 
if  'taint  full  of  officers,  I  guess  I'll  come  here  and 
hide."  By  all  odds,  the  most  amusing  thing  I  have 
seen  since  I  became  a  soldier  was  Tibbs's  parody  of 
Col.  Birge,  of  the  Thirteenth  Connecticut,  a  veteran 
regiment,  which  often  went  through  its  admirable  drill 
close  by  our  camp,  and  whose  commander  at  such  times 
threw  himself  with  unusual  energy  into  his  work.  I 
heard  great  laughter  and  shouting  on  the  parade-ground 
one  morning,  and,  looking  out,  saw  Tibbs  mounted  on  a 
very  lean  and  long-eared  jackass,  which  he  would  cudgel 
until  the  animal  gave  up  his  obstinacy  and  went  off  at 
an  ungainly  gallop.  Tibbs  was  excited  by  the  motion, 
and  roared  his  orders  in  all  parts  of  the  field.  Now  it 
was,  "Close  column  by  division,  on  second  division, 
right  in  front !  "  Then  whack  would  go  the  stick,  and 
Tibbs,  eager  as  if  in  battle,  would  gallop  off  to  the 
other  side  of  the  field.  "  Head  of  column,  to  the  left  !  " 


SUSPENSE.  71 

"  Deploy  column  on  first  company  !  "  &c. ,  &c.  It  was 
an  admirable  caricature  of  the  efficiency  of  Col.  Birge, 
who  was  always  at  full  gallop,  keeping  his  regiment  on 
the  double-quick.  Tibbs  drilled  his  imaginary  command 
for  some  time ;  when  some  one,  perhaps  a  sergeant, 
shocked  at  the  indecorum,  started  after  him  at  full  speed. 
But  Tibbs's  time  had  not  yet  come.  As  the  pursuer 
approached,  Tibbs's  ungainly  steed  reared  and  brayed  ; 
and,  while  dodging  his  heels,  the  pursuer  measured 
his  length  in  the  mud,  leaving  Tibbs  the  cavalier,  in  his 
shabby  uniform,  to  go  on  caracoling,  and  shouting  his 
orders. 

Feb.  18.  — The  edge  of  the  evening ;  in  the  hospital. 
At  my  feet  is  the  stretcher  on  which  I  lie  often,  when  I 
am  here  on  duty  at  night.  It  is  a  good  couch ;  iron 
legs  at  each  end ;  two  long,  limber  poles,  of  ash, 
running  lengthwise,  with  canvas  between,  and  the  ends 
projecting  into  handles.  As  I  write  now,  old  Grimes, 
the  horse-shoer,  a  convalescent,  is  talking  low,  with  a 
sick  sergeant,  of  an  old  flame  of  his,  Chloe  :  — 

"I  swan !  she  was  a  pretty  one,  with  curls  all  down 
her  neck." 

"  Was  they  white  ?  "  asks  the  sergeant. 

"No  :  kind  o'  Morgan." 

Certainly,  Chloe  was  a  lass  to  charm  a  young  horse- 
shoer. 

For  a  wonder,  I  have  a  table  to  write  on,  —  a  real 
marauder's  table,  —  two  handsome  blinds  from  some 
destroyed  house,  roughly  nailed  together,  and  set  up  on 
four  strips  of  plank.  On  the  slats  stand  whiskey  and 


72  THE   COLOK-GUAKD.  & 

castor-oil;  brown-paper  parcels  of  butter;  jelly,  and 
corned-beef  from  the  sutlers ;  vials  of  quinine ;  sugar, 
—  all  in  confusion.  I  sweep  aside  part  of  them  to  get 
elbow-room.  It  is  great  to  have  conveniences.  I  could 
write  a  whole  history ;  but,  in  the  dearth  of  battles  and 
sieges,  what  can  I  put  down?  Nothing  but  little 
accounts  of  those,  who,  I  hope,  some  day  will  fight 
battles  and  make  sieges ;  for  sorrow  be  to  the  Fifty- 
second,  if  we  go  straight  home  from  this  miserable 
inactive  camp. 

I  lean  against  the  tent-pole,  having  just  given  Ives 
his  bath,  and  quieted  the  man  with  the  measles  with  a 
pill;  and,  therefore,  am  at  leisure.  Along  comes 
Cripps,  the  drummer,  with  a  gridiron  of  blue  tape  on 
his  breast,  jumping  over  the  puddles,  then  stopping  for 
a  little  chat.  I  take  an  interest  in  the  music.  It  used 
to  be  none  too  good,  and,  according  to  a  sharp  friend 
of  mine,  was  the  original  cause  of  the  dysentery* in  the 
camp ;  but  there  has  been  an  improvement.  I  ask 
Cripps  about  a  certain  little  musician  in  whom  I  take  an 
interest ;  there  is  so  much  grace  and  sprightly  rattle  to 
his  rub-a-dub-dub  as  he  marches  in  the  line  of  drum 
mers  up  and  down  before  the  regiment  at  dress-parade. 
Cripps  thinks  this  individual  is  a  "nice  boy,"  though 
lately  he  has  come  to  grief;  having  kicked  out  against 
authority,  and  come  to  the  shame  of  the  "barrel"  before 
the  whole  regiment.  In  Cripps's  opinion,  however,  this 
youth,  nimbly  as  he  brandishes  his  drum-sticks,  is  not 
the  first  artist  in  his  line  in  the  regiment :  the  tenor- 
drum  is  a  good  deal  of  an  instrument,  and  "  Hodge  is 


SUSPENSE.  73 

the  man  who  takes  the  rag  rather.  Now,  Hodge  alone 
can  make  as  much  noise  as  all  the  rest  on  us  put  to 
gether.  Its  astonishin',  but  some  of  these  fellers  can't 
strike  right.  'Taint  no  drummin'  to  hit  with  the  sticks 
all  over  the  head :  you  ought  to  hit  right  in  the  middle. 
A  tip-top  drummer  won't  vary  more'n  two  or  three 
inches  from  both  his  sticks,  hittin'  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  head."  I  know  Hodge  well  enough,  —  a  stout, 
straight  boy.  I  have  noticed  the  fine  rhythm  of  his 
almost  invisible  slicks,  and  the  measured,  vigorous 
cadence  of  his  feet  as  he  beats  time.  There  is  poetry 
about  old  Tyrtaeus,  who,  six  centuries  before  Christ, 
marched  with  his  Dorian  flute  at  the  head  of  the  war 
like  Spartan  bands.  I  believe  honestly  too,  that 
Cripps  and  Hodge  in  their  every-day  uniforms,  seen 
through  the  haze  of  a  few  centuries,  might  be  trans 
formed  into  somewhat  romantic  characters.  Cripps 
says  about  the  fifers,  "Some  on  'em  play  plain,  and 
some  on  'em  put  in  the  fancy  touches ;  but  I  kind  o' 
hate  to  see  a  man  flourish.  Why  can't  he  play  straight, 
without  fillin'  up  his  tunes  ?  "  There  is  practical  infor 
mation  about  music. 

Burke  said  the  age  of  chivalry  was  gone,  when  he 
heard  the  French  had  beheaded  Marie  Antoinette ;  an 
observation  he  would  have  been  certain  to  repeat,  could 
he  have  heard  .the  recent  remarks  of  Private  Clout. 

Scene.  —  The  hospital-tent,  of  a  sunny  afternoon  j 
private  Clout,  sensible,  practical,  but  somewhat  unheroic, 
seated  on  the  bunk  of  Grimes,  who  has  gone  out  to 
take  an  airing.  Attendant,  couched  in  the  lair  of 

4 


74  THE    COLOK-GUAKD. 

Chape,  opposite,  cleaning  gun  and  equipments,  against 
dress-parade. 

Private  Clout,  loq.  :   "Heard  the  new  rumor,  now?" 

"  Goin'  down  to  New  Orleans,  p'raps  ;  or,  leastways, 
can  if  we're  a  mind  to  and  the  colonel's  willin'." 

Attendant  suggests,  if  we  go  to  New  Orleans,  in  all 
probability  we  shall  not  go  to  Port  Hudson,  about  to  be 
attacked.  We  shall  only  have  to  do  the  ignoble  duty 
of  petty  policemen,  —  pick  up  the  little  boys  who  will 
sing  "The  bonnie  blue  flag"  in  the  streets,  and  the 
naughty  ladies  who  stick  out  their  tongues  at  the 
soldiers.  We  shall  have  to  go  home  ignominiously, 
without  honor,  without  having  struck  a  blow,  and  almost 
without  having  run  a  risk,  except  from  the  weather  and 
climate. 

Private  C. :  "  Well,  honor  !  —  hem  !  —  don't  know 
much  'bout  that ;  but  know  this  :  go  to  Port  Hudson, 
might  get  killed,  —  that  ain't  comfortable;  might  get 
your  leg  shot  off.  Putty  sure  of  this,  anyhow  :  if  you 
get  hurt,  after  the  first,  no  one  cares  about  it  but  your 
relations.  If  you  hain't  got  none,  like  as  not  you  die  a 
pauper.  I  ain't  so  fast  for  going  to  Port  Hudson. 
Down  to  New  Orleans  you  get  good  quarters,  good 
livin',  and  not  much  to  do.  S'pose  I'd  go  into  swamps, 
and  where  them  dreadful  careless  cannon  was  pointin' 
my  way,  ef  I  was  ordered ;  but  I'd  rather  go  where  it's 
safe  and  easy." 

Private  Clout  is  a  representative  man ;  very  sensible 
and  practical,  but  somewhat  unheroic ;  not  given  to  illu 
sions  ;  disposed  to  brush  the  dust  off  that  makes  the 


SUSPENSE.  75 

patterns  on  the  butterfly's  wings,  —  nothing  but  dust, 
we  all  know,  not  good  for  any  thing,  but  too  pretty  to 
spare. 

The  other  day  a  soldier  came  up  to  me,  holding  a 
strip  of  board  :  — 

"  I  want  you  to  carve  out  Elwood's  name  on  this  for 
a  head-board  to  his  grave." 

"But,  Jim,  I  never  did  such  a  thing." 

"  Oh  !  they  say  you  can  make  letters." 

At  Camp  Miller,  for  want  of  something  to  do,  I  set 
to  work  marking  clothes  ;  and  did  so  much  of  it,  I  came 
to  be  tolerably  skilful.  Now,  this  accomplishment  had 
brought  me  new  work.  I  said  I  would  try,  and  took 
the  board.  I  drew  Elwood's  name  as  well  as  I  could  ; 
then  carefully  hollowed  out  each  letter,  until  it  was 
done.  It  was  a  long  and  fatiguing  task,  carving  hour 
after  hour  :  but  it  was  pious  employment,  —  making  a 
memorial,  however  rude,  for  a  comrade  ;  and  I  did  it  as 
well  as  I  could. 

I  have  also  done  one  for  Ed.  I  chose  my  board,  as 
good  a  one  as  I  could  find ;  outlined  the  letters  ;  then, 
guarding  carefully  the  knife  from  any  improper  slip, 
I  sank  the  name  and  office  deep  into  the  wood.  It  was 
the  work  of  days.  And  now  the  piece  is  being  framed 
into  an  upright,  so  that  it  will  be  the  horizontal  piece 
of  a  cross ;  and  it  will  stand  at  the  head  of  the  dear 
boy's  grave. 

Feb.  21.  —  Suspense,  —  suspense  for  ever.  Every 
day  we  expect  news  of  a  movement ;  but  it  does  not 
come.  They  are  signalling  now ;  they  are  signalling 


76  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

night  and  day  from  one  of  the  half-ruined  towers  of  the 
capitol,  by  flag  and  fire.  The  old  tower  is  perfectly 
garrulous  with  the  ships  and  the  stations  down  the  river. 
Scarcely  an  hour  of  the  day  goes  by  but  I  hear  volleys 
of  musketry,  the  cries  of  platoons  of  men  as  they 
charge,  "  the  noise  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting ; "  for 
drill  goes  vigorously  forward.  The  streets  of  the  town 
are  full  of  armed  men. 

The  other  day,  I  saw  Nims's  Battery  at  drill.  The 
cannons  and  caissons  are  all  out.  I  pass  in  front  of 
thai  muzzles  as  they  are  drawn  up,  —  hard  things  to 
face.  There,  as  usual,  is  the  bugler,  covered  in  front 
with  broad  bars  of  red,  like  St.  Lawrence  escaped  from 
his  broiling  before  his  martyrdom  was  completed, — he 
is  there ;  but  to-day  Capt.  Nims  does  his  own  bugling. 
"Toot,  toot,"  a  chain  of  notes,  and  away  they  all  go  on 
a  gallop ;  "  toot,  toot,"  now  they  halt  and  unlimber ; 
"  toot,  toot,"  off  again,  by  the  right  flank,  swords  wav 
ing,  harness  jingling,  horses  kicking  with  excitement, 
—  all  done,  to  a  little  chain  of  clear  bugle-notes. 
Prompt  they  are,  as  if  those  notes  were  linked  on  in 
some  way  to  that  great  rattling  battery ;  and  strong 
enough  to  swing  the  whole  affair  right  or  left,  horses, 
guns,  and  all ;  then  jerk  each  man  off  his  seat,  as  they 
come  to  a  halt,  and  bring  him  up  standing.  Rather 
ungracious  business,  Capt.  Nims,  blowing  your  own 
trumpet;  but  you  do  it  very  well. 

I  write  on  the  cluttered-up  table,  —  the  two  blinds 
nailed  together.  Where  once,  for  all  I  know,  some 
sweet  Southern  belle  sent  glances  through  the  slats, 


SUSPENSE.  77 

now  the  quinine  mixture  of  Private  Grimes  (accident 
ally  upset)  strains  through  on  to  the  floor. 

In  hospital-life  I  see  the  good  and  bad  side  of  human 
nature.  There  are  shirks,  —  but  I  believe  I  know  one 
or  two,  — foul-mouthed  often  indeed,  and  altogether  too 
rough,  one  would  think,  ever  to  be  fledged  out  with 
angels'  plumage.  They  will  go  home  from  here  (if 
they  live)  to  a  bed  on  the  straw  in  a  barn-loft,  or  to  a 
cot  in  a  shanty  in  the  woods,  where  they  are  getting 
out  timber  for  some  saw-mill ;  but,  in  view  of  their 
substantial  goodness,  I  know  not  why,  some  night,  these 
surroundings  should  not  "like  a  lily  bloom,"  as  well  as 
the  chamber  of  Abou  Ben  Adhem,  and  an  angel  write 
them  down,  as  "those  who  love  their  fellow-men,"  near 
the  head  of  God's  list,  thoroughly  unsanctified  though 
they  seem,  as  judged  by  all  conventional  standards. 

March  11,  Wednesday.  — I  was  sitting  in  the  chap 
lain's  tent  Sunday  evening,  complimenting  him  on  his 
excellent  sermon,  which  he  had  just  preached  in  the 
sutler's  tent  to  a  congregation  of  men  sitting  on  molas 
ses  barrels,  and  boxes  of  almost  every  thing.  Every 
moment,  a  bearded  face  was  thrust  in  at  the  door 
with,  — 

"When  does  the  mail  come?"  or,  "When  does  it 
go?" 

Presently  in  comes  the  sergeant-major. 

"Two  items  of  news." 

Complimentary  corporal  becomes  mute.  Chaplain 
turns.  Inquirer  at  the  door,  or  rather  flap,  of  the  tent, 
listens  attentively. 


78  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

"First,  the 'Nashville' is  taken."  (Intelligence  re 
ceived  with  due  patriotic  joy.) 

"  Second,  orders  to  march  have  come  at  last !  " 

We  expect  to  march  :  but  hours  go  by,  days  and 
nights  go  by ;  and  now  here  it  is  Wednesday  noon, 
and  we  are  still  at  the  old  ground,  —  knapsacks  packed, 
canteens  filled,  rations  ready.  Our  shelter-tents  came 
yesterday.  They  are  simply  pieces  of  cotton,  about  five 
feet  square,  with  buttons  and  button-holes  on  the  sides, 
so  that  they  can  be  connected.  We  are  expected  to 
get  the  necessary  stakes  from  some  fence  or  forest, 
wherever  we  may  be.  Each  soldier  carries  one  of  these 
squares  of  cotton  cloth.  Four  of  us  expect  to  go  to 
gether.  At  night  we  shall  button  up  our  house,  and  be 
comfortable. 

March  13.  — I  have  retreated  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
camp  this  superb  morning,  and  have  mounted  a  stump, 
portfolio  in  hand,  to  record  progress.  I  hope  the  gene 
ral  is  not  "  up  a  stump  "  about  his  expedition ;  but  here 
we  still  are.  We  have  been  under  marching  orders 
four  or  five  days.  The  cause  of  the  delay  is  said  to  be 
disagreement  among  the  generals.  It  may  or  may  not 
be  that. 

But  impressive  preparations  have  been  made  for  some 
monster  undertaking.  Evenings,  sometimes,  I  have 
gone  with  my  hospital-pass  down  to  the  river-side  to 
see  Admiral  Farragut's  fleet  (capable,  they  say,  of 
throwing  four  tons  of  iron  a  minute).  The  "Rich 
mond  "  lies  farthest  up  the  stream,  whose  grim,  dark 
broadside  we  have  become  so  familiar  with.  Farther 


SUSPENSE.  79 

down  is  the  "Mississippi,"— powerful,  noble  old  frigate, 
which  I  remember  being  taken  to  see  when  I  was  a 
young  child.  She  is  a  Cromwell  among  the  fleet ; 
never  doing  any  thing  but  peaceful  work  all  through 
early  life  on  to  middle  age  ;  then  suddenly  plunging  into 
fiery  warfare,  and  making  an  immortal  name  for  her 
self.  Stained  and  warty  and  wrinkled  is  her  old  hull, 
as  was  the  face  of  Cromwell ;  moreover,  painted  a 
shade  of  gray,  so  that  she  looks  hoary,  — blistered  from 
tropic  exposures,  scraped  and  scarred  from  ice-floes,  but 
stanch  yet  to  the  keel,  and  perhaps  the  most  reliable 
member  of  the  squadron. 

The  "Hartford"  lies  below,  whose  battery  I  heard 
thunder  at  New  Orleans.  The  "Essex"  is  drawn  close 
up  in  shore.  I  lean  against  the  wheel  of  a  powder- 
wagon,  and  look,  at  my  leisure,  at  her  formidable 
plating;  her  pipes  rising  from  the  hard  shell  like  a 
pair  of  snail's  horns  ;  the  big  guns  showing  their  muz 
zles  through  the  ports,  like  dogs  that  want  to  be  petted. 
To  her  present  fame,  what  new  glory  is  she  about  to 
add?  The  mortar- vessels  are  stretched  in  a  line  below, 
and  close  to  the  Levee  lies  the  trim  gunboat  "Kineo." 

It  is  late  twilight  now.  I  sit  on  the  embankment, 
looking  at  the  pale,  yellow  sky  westward,  between 
which  and  my  sight  intervene  the  masts  and  rigging 
of  one  of  these  mighty  gladiators  of  the  deep.  She  lies 
far  enough  distant  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  hear 
any  sounds  from  her  deck,  except  most  faintly ;  but  I 
can  dimly  see  the  back  of  the  great  eleven-inch  Dahl- 
gren  above  the  bulwarks,  —  like  a  saurian  crouching 


80  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

upon  her  deck,  —  and  the  watch  on  the  forecastle,  — 
a  well-formed,  square-shouldered  sailor  pacing  to  and 
fro.  Twilight  is  deepening  in  the  far  heavens  beyond,  — 
a  clear,  pale  space  within  a  frame  of  clouds  ;  just  the 
back-ground  upon  which  might  be  displayed  such  a 
heavenly  sign  as  appeared  to  Constantine  of  old, — the 
flaming  cross,  the  harbinger  of  victory.  I  see  nothing 
but  the  bright  evening-star,  just  over  the  head  of  the 
sailor  on  the  forecastle. 

Yesterday  morning,  we  thought  we  were  certainly 
off  at  last.  Word  came  to  be  ready  to  fall  in  at  nine 
o'clock.  Every  thing  was  prepared.  I  had  my  forty 
rounds  in  my  cartridge-box,  and  twenty  additional  in 
my  trousers-pocket.  For  the  last,  down  came  the 
shelter-tent.  Bivins  packed  away  his  piece,  and  I 
mine  ;  and,  when  the  drum  sounded,  I  was  promptly 
with  the  cok>r-guard.  Bias  Dickinson  is  once  more  at 
my  shoulder.  We  thought  we  were  off;  but  we  were 
only  to  be  reviewed.  It  was  as  brilliant  as  one  can 
conceive.  Two  divisions,  brigade  beyond  brigade;  yet 
Austrian  troops  in  white,  or  British  troops  in  red,  must 
be  more  brilliant.  Our  blue  is  but  a  dull  hue  ;  yet  still 
ten  thousand  men  together  is  a  sight  to  behold,  —  in 
uniform,  in  regular  formations,  —  lying  long  across  a 
field,  like  wave  behind  wave,  with  a  foam  of  bayonets 
lit  up  by  sun's  rays  cresting  each. 

Gen.  Banks  comes  up  with  a  multitudinous  staff. 
Now  is  the  time  for  splendid  steeds, — coursers  fitted 
for  an  Homeric  chariot ;  the  war-horse  of  Job,  his  neck 
clothed  with  thunder;  arching  necks,  prancing  limbs, 


SUSPENSE.  81 

fetlocks  spurning  the  furrow;  bays,  blacks,  and  gra^rs, 
prancing  and  rearing  from  well-filled  bins  (for  each 
horse  has  had  his  nose  in  a  government-crib).  In  full 
dress,  in  front  of  the  whole,  on  his  coal-black  stallion, 
rides  the  general.  The  brigades,  one  behind  another, 
see  him  from  afar  :  the  brigadiers  bring  swords  to  chin, 
then  sweep  the  point  through  the  air  groundward ;  ban 
ners  droop,  drums  (near  and  far  .away)  roll  a  salute. 
The  general  removes  his  cap.  He  is  splendid, — his 
staff  behind  him  splendid,  —  glittering  with  bullion 
and  lace,  with  buttons  and  steel.  All  is  splendid ;  but 
the  color-guard  thinks  it  is  tough  work  to  look  at  a 
spectacle  in  heavy  marching  order. 

Each  half-hour  puts  a  new  pound  into  my  knapsack  ; 
yet  I  feel  like  little  Tom  Brown  when  he  goes  to  Rugby 
for  the  first  time  on  the  stage,  riding  at  night,  his  legs 
dangling  (too  short  to  reach  the  support)  and  tingling 
in  the  cold.  It  hurts  ;  but  Tom  finds  a  pleasure  in  en 
during.  It  hurts  me ;  but  I  find  a  kind  of  pleasure. 
*  Then,  too,  I  have  company  enough  in  my  misery ;  and 
do  not  care  much,  so  long  as  the  sergeant  and  Bias 
and  Hardiker  find  it  just  as  hard  as  I  do. 

Down  the  line,  on  a  full  canter,  now  come  the  gene 
ral  and  his  brilliant  staff.  See  the  bluff  captains  and 
commodores  from  the  fleet!  Bump,  up  and  down! 
Winnowing  the  air  may  be  graceful  work  for  the  wings 
of  a  swallow,  but  not  for  the  elbows  of  a  commodore. 
Trip  goes  a  horse  into  a  ditch,  and  an  aide  goes  down. 
Down  the  front  of  the  line,  then  behind.  Then  we 
must  march  by, — first  Gen.  Grower,  commanding  the 


82  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

» 

division,  in  buff  sash  and  yellow  belt,  with  the  division- 
flag  at  his  side,  carried  by  an  orderly,  — red  field,  with 
a  star  of  white  ;  then  the  brigadier  of  the  first  brigade, 
with  his  flag  (blue,  white,  and  blue)  behind  him ;  then 
regiment  behind  regiment,  drooping  its  "good-morn 
ing"  to  the  general,  in  the  dipping-colors,  as  the  lines 
wheel  and  pass  before  him,  receiving  a  wave  of  the  cap 
in  return, — horn  and  bugle,  drum  and  fife,  filling  the 
air  with  glorious  sound,  —  the  great  host  with  rhythmic 
foot-beat  moving  mightily  onward.  Now  it  is  over. 
We  march  back  to  the  old  camp  ;  and,  for  the  first  thing, 
reduce  our  baggage.  We  thought,  before,  we  were 
peeled  down  to  the  last  rind ;  but  more  still  must  go,  or 
we  shall  never  see  Port  Hudson.  Most  of  the  men 
resign  woollen  blankets  :  but  I  give  up  my  overcoat ;  I 
can  spare  that  best. 

The  other  day  I  went  to  Edward's  grave,  with  a 
spade,  to  repair  and  re-turf  the  mound,  which  had  sunk 
a  little  during  the  rainy  weather.  This  week  I  have 
placed  the  cross,  which  is  to  stand  at  the  head.  It  is 
simply  of  wood,  painted  white,  with  his  name  and  office 
deeply  carved  into  the  horizontal  bar  ;  and,  beneath,  the 
date  of  his  death.  Of  all  the  soldiers'  graves,  none  is 
so  neat  now,  in  its  memorial,  in  its  turf,  or  location, 
as  his. 

They  write  me,  they  hope  I  am  still  in  the  hospital ; 
but  I  am  not.  There  are  plenty  of  invalid  or  conva 
lescent  soldiers,  unfit  for  field-duty,  who  can  tend  the 
sick.  I  am  well  able  to  do  soldier's  work.  If  it  is 
God's  will,  I  shall  some  day  go  home.  The  time  has 


SUSPENSE.  83 

come  to  the  young  men  of  this  country,  when  the  motto, 
"Death,  or  an  honorable  life,"  tries  more  sharply  the 
manhood  of  him  who  adopts  it  than  once.  Sometimes 
one  can  lead  an  honorable  life,  and  run  no  risk.  I  could 
not  be  honorable  without  going  into  the  army.  The 
path  of  honor  for  me  now  is  to  go  with  the  color-guard 
into  the  fire  of  the  Port-Hudson  batteries.  I  would 
have  my  life  honorable,  or  go  with  Ed. 


84  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH." 

MARCH  14.  —  On  my  side,  in  a  corn-field,  about  thir 
teen  miles  from  Baton  Rouge,  on  the  Port-Hudson  road, 
with  Port  Hudson  from  five  to  seven  miles  away.  Off 
for  war  at  last,  as  sure  as  we  live.  It  is  the  noon  halt. 
Grover's  division,  far  as  I  can  see,  lies  in  lines,  one  line 
behind  another,  in  each  about  one  regiment ;  arms  all 
stacked,  with  the  men  behind;  some  sleeping,  some 
eating,  some  inspecting  feet  becoming  blistered.  Last 
evening,  we  left  our  old  camp  in  good  earnest.  We 
marched  out  half  a  mile  to  the  camp  of  the  Ninety-first 
New  York,  with  which  we  are  brigaded  ;  then  waited  for 
the  army  to  assemble ;  from  street  and  path  a  stream  of 
troops,  coming  like  runnels  into  a  larger  stream;  until 
at  last  Gen.  Grover  himself,  with  the  red  flag  and  white 
star  of  the  fourth  division,  went  to  the  head  of  the  col 
umn.  A  furlong  or  so  in  front  of  us,  young  Col.  van 
Zandt,  our  brigadier,  took  his  station  with  the  blue  white 
and  blue  ensign  of  the  second  brigade.  We  are  all  in 
heavy  order,  each  one  of  us  b^irns-  though,  since  the  re 
view  of  yesterday,  essential  things  have  undergone  a  won 
derful  diminution ;  an  effective-looking  crowd,  though 
not  exactly  smooth  and  neat.  We  are  soon  on  the  point 


"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH."  85 

of  starting.  Our  colonel  comes  riding  back  from  the 
general,  with  the  resolute,  pleasant  smile  he  usually 
wears,  a  little  more  expanded  than  common.  The 
colonel  whispers  to  Capt.  Morton ;  whereat  the  captain 
catches  the  smile,  and  he  comes  back  toward  his  com 
pany  ,  —  the  color-company,  you  know.  w  Gen.  Grover 
says  the  Fifty-second  is  the  best  nine  months'  regiment 
in  the  service."  A  little  butter  of  that  sort  will  help 
hard  fare  and  tough  marching  ;  that  the  general  knows. 

Ahead  ride  the  cavalry,  yellow  trimmings  about  their 
cojlars,  yellow  welts  about  the  seams  of  their  jackets 
at  the  back,  and  stripes  down  the  pantaloons.  Artillery 
come  up.  Their  trimmings  are  red ;  in  fine  order  every 
body;  horses  prancing,  cannon  polished,  muskets  in 
the  finest  order ;  an  untried  army,  but  of  the  finest  ma 
terial,  and  as  well  equipped,  I  suppose,  as  any  country 
through  all  history  has  ever  equipped  her  warriors. 
The  march  begins,  out  past  the  spots  where  we  have 
stood  on  picket.  I  see  that  the  fence-post,  against  which 
I  leaned  all  one  night,  has  gone  to  the  coals.  We  come 
to  two  roads  branching  off  from  the  one  on  which  we 
are  marching  :  one  to  Clinton,  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles 
away ;  the  other  to  Port  Hudson.  This  last  road  we 
take.  Soon  we  are  beyond  the  outmost  picket-stations, 
and  push  forth  into  unknown  regions. 

The  weather  is  grand.  We  are  in  a  heavy  magnolia 
forest :  the  sun's  rays,  now  nearly  level  (for  it  is  late  in 
the  afternoon) ,  cannot  reach  us.  We  go  mile  after  mile. 
The  road  is  just  what  it  should  be,  not  muddy,  not  dry 
enough  to  be  dusty ;  but  smooth  and  soft  enough  for 


86  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  foot  to  feel  it  like  a  cushion,  yet  not  so  soft  as  to 
take  the  foot  in  too  deep.  It  is  just  wide  enough  for 
the  regiment  to  march  comfortably  by  the  flank,  in  sec 
tions  four  deep.  Sometimes  we  go  over  a  hill :  then, 
far  ahead  and  far  behind,  I  can  see  the  big  column  of 
infantry,  a  huge  caterpillar  eating  its  way  through  the 
woods,  jointed  along  his  back  where  the  sections  are 
separated,  spiny  as  a  caterpillar's  back  is,  with  the 
hundreds  of  muskets  sticking  out  at  various  angles. 
The  night  settles  down,  a  night  of  stars ;  and  from  the 
westward,  as  the  glow  fades,  rockets  go  darting  up, 
signals  from  the  fleet,  out  of  sight,  in  the  river,  ascend 
ing  like  us,  loaded  with  death  against  the  great  fortress. 
Shall  we  march  all  night?  No  one  knows,  not  captain 
or  colonel,  only  Gen.  Grover  apparently ;  but  at  eight 
o'clock,  or  about  that,  eight  miles  on  our  journey,  comes 
the  order  to  bivouac.  A  pause  in  the  march,  then  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  of  intermittent  progress,  then  horse 
men  dimly  seen  in  the  starlight ;  the  order  to  "  file 
right,"  and  I  follow  the  tall  color-sergeant  over  the  rails 
of  a  destroyed  fence  into  a  ridgy  corn-field,  across 
which  the  regiment  advances  in  line,  guiding  on  the 
centre  as  well  as  it  can  see,  then  halts  ;  the  Ninety-first 
thirty  or  forty  paces  in  front,  the  Twenty-fourth  Con 
necticut  about  the  same  distance  behind.  Stack  arms, 
then  camp  for  the  night. 

I  go  back  from  my  place  on  the  left  of  Co.  A  to  Co. 
D,  and  shout  through  the  dark  for  Bivins.  We  find 
a  soft  plaqe  among  the  furrows  :  two  rubber  blankets 
over  a  soft  ridge  make  our  mattress  ;  then  two  woollen 


87 


blankets  over ;  and  last  the  shelter-tents,  not  pitched, 
but  on  top  by  way  of  counterpane,  to  give  a  finish  to 
the  bed.  Lie  down  now,  boys,  loaded  pistol  still  at  the 
belt,  every  arm  where  it  can  be  caught  in  an  instant ; 
for  Port  Hudson  may  send  out  fellows  to  stir  us  up  dur 
ing  the  night.  "  Corporal  Buffum,  under  the  stump 
there,  is  your  bedroom  well  aired?"  Buffum  thinks  he 
shall  make  out  not  to  suffocate.  The  night-wind  blows 
over  us,  the  stars  shine  as  only  Southern  stars  do, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  fancy  runs  northward  and  home 
ward  through  a  thousand  dreams. 

The  morning  comes  at  last.  Is  it  D  or  B?  The 
mind  gradually  gathers  itself.  Is  it  the  camp  by  the 
river,  or  under  the  magnolias  ?  Ah  !  now  I  have  it,  — 
the  tall  naked  trees,  the  furrows  bristling  with  dry 
stalks  and  partially  covered  with  short  grass,  the  army 
rising  like  a  brimming  colony  of  ants  from  the  ground. 
Now,  as  I  roll  over,  my  pistol  hits  me  in  the  ribs,  and 
slap  against  my  legs  hits  the  heavily-weighted  cartridge- 
box.  It  will  make  my  thigh  black  and  blue,  I  believe. 
I  have  slept  as  well  as  I  ever  did.  No  one  knows  ex 
actly  when  we  shall  be  ordered  into  line. 

At  any  rate,  the  canteens  must  be  filled  :  that  is  the 
first  thing.  Bivins  and  I  draw  cuts,  and  it  falls  to 
me  :  so  Cyrus  Stowell  and  I  start  off,  hung  round  with 
a  maze  of  white  canteen-strings,  as  if  somebody  had 
thrown  a  net  over  us.  We  gat  back  to  camp  just  as 
the  cry  "  to  fall  in "  is  being  shouted  by  the  first  ser 
geants.  The  brigade  files  out  of  the  corn-field,  and  is 
on  the  road  again. 


88  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

"The  thing  that  hath  been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be ; 
and  there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun."  I  think  of 
that  as  two  companies  from  the  regiment  are  detailed  as 
flankers.  They  go  off  into  the  woods,  fifteen  or  twenty 
rods  from  the  road  on  each  side ;  and  throughout  the 
march  we  see  these  two  lines  guarding  the  main  body 
against  ambuscade,  —  through  stumps  and  stalks, 
through  old  sugar-fields,  plantation  barn-yards,  and 
wild  swamps.  I  remember  to  have  read,  that  just  so 
Lord  Percy,  on  the  retreat  from  Concord,  threw  out 
flankers  to  protect  his  harassed  party.  Probably  the 
children  in  the  houses  we  are  passing,  fifty  years  from 
now,  will  tell  how  Banks  went  by  to  Port  Hudson,  as 
the  old  people  along  the  Lexington  road  recall  their 
great  reminiscence. 

When  I  was  studying-up  the  old  Assyrians  once,  I 
found  out  that  the  soldiers  of  Sennacherib  were  prepared 
against  the  Jewish  horsemen  with  almost  the  same 
tactics  which  the  French  were  to  employ  against  the 
Mameluke  cavalry,  ages  after,  in  the  same  region,  fcio 
Lord  Clyde,  in  India,  once  circumvented  an  army  of 
mutinous  Sepoys  with  the  same  strategy,  particular  for 
particular,  which  the  old  Hebrew  leader  Joshua  used 
against  "  the  men  of  Ai,"  in  the  days  when  the  sun  and 
moon  stood  still.  I  dare  say,  in  spite  of  improvements, 
we  look  very  much  like  these  old  soldiers  of  the  past, 
as  the  features  of  our  warfare  are  similar.  In  clothing 
and  equipments,  we  are  reduced  to  what  is  simply  con 
venient  and  easy.  The  pattern  of  our  garments  and 
their  quantity,  the  fashion  of  weaptms  arid  trappings,  — 


* 

"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH."  89 

every  thing  is  fitted  for  convenient  use.  What  is  con 
venient  now,  was,  no  doubt,  convenient  a  thousand 
years  ago.  Probably,  after  all,  we  do  not  look  much 
unlike  the  spearmen  of  Nineveh,  the  legionaries  of 
Rome,  or  the  halberdiers  of  Alva,  when  they  put  off 
holiday  things,  and  undertook  the  active  work  of 
war. 

The  morning  deepens  toward  noon.  Fewer  soldiers 
now  leave  the  line  to  forage  among  hen-roosts ;  and 
the  plunder,  collected  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  is 
thrown  away  as  the  sun  begins  to  burn.  Only  the 
negroes,  a  half-dozen  or  so  of  whom  go  with  each  com 
pany,  stick  to  their  prizes  of  chickens  and  turkeys.  The 
Fifty-second  grow  red,  and  sweat ;  and  now,  along  the 
roadside,  we  begin  to  see  —  what,  I  believe,  is  always 
seen  when  an  army  is  on  the  march  —  knapsacks,  some 
times  full  and  sometimes  empty,  blankets,  shelter-tents, 
all  the  articles  of  a  soldier's  kit,  thrown  away  for  relief. 
Occasionally  we  stop,  when  the  stream  of  men  rushes 
from  the  roadway  to  the  grass  at  the  side,  and  in  a 
moment  every  man  is  flat  on  his  back.  It  is  a  good 
way  to  rest,  though  a  dirty  one  :  the  pack  behind  sup 
ports  you  at  a  comfortable  incline.  Sometimes  you  sit 
in  the  dust,  sometimes  in  the  dew  :  one  is  not  over  par 
ticular  when  each  pore  spouts  hot  perspiration  like  a 
perfect  geyser.  In  one  of  these  pauses,  we  hear  cheer 
ing  far  behind  us,  that  comes  rolling  nearer  ;  when  word 
passes  from  mouth  to  mouth,  "The  general,  the  gene 
ral  !  "  In  a  moment,  a  clatter  of  hoofs,  and  then  past 
us  sweeps  the  "iron  leader,"  at  full  gallop  and  bare- 


90  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

headed,  with  his  staff  behind  him,  on  his  way  to  the 
front  of  the  column. 

Men  now  begin  to  fall  out.  They  lie  panting  by  the 
roadside,  in  fence-corners,  under  bushes,  with  heads 
resting  against  logs,  —  a  sorrowful  sight,  though  not  so 
bad  as  if  we  were  on  a  retreat,  and  a  howling  enemy 
were  to  pick  them  up  instead  of  friendly  baggage- 
wagons  in  the  rear.  Sometimes  there  is  a  momentary 
hitch  as  the  column  picks  its  way  around  a  mud-hole. 
I  find  some  relief  then  for  my  shoulders  in  stooping 
over,  and  hitching  the  weight  of  the  pack  on  to  my 
back.  It  is  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul ;  but  poor  Paul 
has  so  much  the  hardest  time,  that  Peter  ought  to  be 
willing  to  give  him  a  lift. 

Fortunately,  the  day  is  very  fine ;  a  grand  breeze 
comes  blowing  up  behind  us  :  it  is  sunny,  but  cool ;  and 
the  vines  from  the  roadside  wave  white  roses  at  us  as 
we  go  by,  as  if  the  hedges  were  in  for  the  North,  how 
ever  it  might  be  with  the  people  who  lived  behind  them. 
Thank  fortune  !  so  far  as  my  body  goes,  it  is  a  good 
one.  Heavy,  muscular  fellows  are  pitching  away  their 
knapsacks,  or  lying  swollen  and  panting  by  the  road 
side  :  but,  in  my  case,  there  is  no  headache  yet ;  heart 
works  smoothly  and  healthily  in  the  left  side,  and  liver 
under  the  diaphragm  ;  legs  swing  to  and  fro  without  a 
painful  chord,  and  feet  are  fully  up  to  their  responsibili 
ties. 

True,  it  is  hard.  Whenever  the  column  halts,  I  am 
flat  on  my  back,  and  in  the  dirt  at  once.  If  there  is  a 
pool  near,  I  must  dowse  my  hot  head,  and  re-wet  the 


"INTO   THE   LIONS   MOTJTII."  91 

handkerchief  in  my  cap  ;  but  so  it  is  with  us  all.  It  is 
a  good  thing,  when  all  favors,  to  be  big  and  imposing, 
like  Corporal  Green  here,  and  the  rest  of  our  fine, 
grenadier-looking  soldiers  ;  but,  for  actual  work,  the 
little,  light-weighted  fellows  are  even  with  them. 

We  have  come  now  some  six  or  seven  miles.  The 
forenoon  draws  to  its  close :  true  as  the  needle  to  the 
pole,  the  belly  turns  dinnerward.  The  fence  is  down, 
here  to  the  left ;  and  the  long  column,  filing  into  just 
such  an  old  cornfield  as  we  camped  in  the  night  before, 
rules  it  across  with  long,  blue  lines  of  soldiery  at  regu 
lar  intervals,  and  proceeds  to  write  it  over  with  such 
confusion  as  some  thousands  of  reckless,  hungry  men 
would  be  likely  to  make.  Here  it  is,  that,  a  dried 
herring  or  two  and  some  hard-tack  and  cheese  being 
promptly  put  away,  the  color-corporal,  under  the  lee 
of  the  stacked  arms  of  the  guard,  pitches  off  his  traps, 
lies  down  under  the  folded  colors,  and  writes. 

March  18.  —  In  camp  on  the  Bayou  Montecino, 
between  Port  Hudson  and  Baton  Rouge.  You  may 
see  the  place  on  a  large  map  of  Louisiana,  —  a  sudden 
bend  in  the  river  above  Baton  Rouge.  On  Lloyds' 
military  map,  which  we  happen  to  have,  the  bend  and 
the  bayou  are  both  plain. 

Bivins  and  I  have  buttoned  up  our  house  over  the 
furrows  of  an  old  cotton-field  :  it  is  open  at  both  ends  ; 
but  the  evening  air  is  so  mild  to-night,  we  can  stand 
all  that. 

Our  rubber  blankets  are  spread  on  the  damp  ground. 
The  point  of  a  bayonet  is  stuck  in  the  ground,  and  in 


92  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  bayonet-socket  Is  a  candle  which  gives  us  light. 
The  State  flag  of  the  regiment,  its  white  silk  covered 
from  the  weather,  lies  along  the  ridge-pole  of  the  tent. 
From  the  ends  of  this  hang  our  equipments,  in  as 
apple-pie  order  as  circumstances  will  permit  in  a  coun 
try  where  there  are  neither  apples  nor  pie-crust.  The 
cartridge-boxes  are  well  loaded  down  with  powder  and 
ball ;  for  rebs  of  the  most  truculent  sort  come  down  to 
within  a  mile  or  two  of  us,  and  we  may  hear  the  long- 
roll  any  minute. 

To  resume  my  diary.  The  Fifty-second  had  stopped 
for  its  dinner  last  Saturday  noon.  I  lay,  as  I  have 
written  it,  on  my  side,  pencil  in  hand ;  then  I  snoozed ; 
then  I  looked  across  the  furrows,  through  the  sweet, 
sunny,  blossom-scented  air,  to  the  long  line  of  the 
Ninety-first,  their  colors  exactly  opposite  ours.  Half 
a  dozen  pigs  ran  down  between  the  regiments  ;  a  gaunt 
let,  I  believe,  not  one  survived  :  and  before  night  they 
were  eaten  with  much  gusto  ;  for,  during  our  stay  at 
Baton  Rouge,  we  have  very  rarely  tasted  fresh  meat. 

Boom,  boom'!  —  big  guns  from  the  river.  We  can 
hear,  too,  the  cough  of  high-pressure  transport  steam 
ers,  and  know  now  that  the  fleet  are,  at  least,  as  near 
old  Port  Hudson  as  we  are ;  and  we  are  only  four  or 
five  miles  away.  At  length,  "  Fall  in,  men,  at  once  ! ' 
An  aide  has  come  galloping  up  to  the  colonel,  who  is  on 
horseback  in  a  moment.  "We  shall  probably  have  sharp 
work  before  we  come  back." — "Keep  cool,  and  do  not 
waste  your  fire."  So  Capt.  Morton  and  the  rest  give 
such  caution  to  their  men  as  is  needful  on  the  eve  of 


"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH."  93 

battle.  "  Leave  knapsacks  here  :  the  footsore  men  will 
guard  them," — poor  Hines,  and  the  like  of  him,  whose 
feet  these  real  secesh  roads  have  beaten  and  bruised 
with  true  rebel  violence. 

How  do  we  feel  ?  We  are  going  out  to  meet  the 
enemy,  we  all  fully  believe,  and  so  do  our  officers  :  and 
even  staff-officers  of  the  general,  who  are  friendly  to 
us,  look  pityingly  after,  as  we  march  on;  for  they 
know,  though  we  do  not,  that  we  are  to  be  pushed  up 
in  front  of  the  whole  army,  into  close  range  of  the  can 
non  upon  the  fortress-walls.  The  Fifty-second  is  cool, 
and  yet  eager ;  and  not  a  man,  that  can  limp  at  all, 
wants  to  stay.  For  the  last  thing,  "  Load  !  "  Open 
cartridge-box ;  tear  the  tough  paper  from  the  powder 
end,  —  there  it  goes  down  the  barrel ;  and  now  the  ball ; 
half-cock,  then  cap  the  cone,  and  all  is  done.  If  I 
have  to  fire,  it  will  be  for  the  cause.  Scruples,  now, 
are  mere  squeamishness.  Now,  "By  the  right  flank, 
forward  !  "  Hardiker  carries  the  white  State-flag  ;  the 
tall  sergeant,  the  stars  and  stripes.  Old  flag,  you  are 
woven  of  no  ordinary  stuff!  Rank  and  file  and 
shoulder-straps,  it  is  a  sacred  thing !  It  has  for  a 
warp,  liberty;  and  for  a  woof,  constitutional  order; 
and  is  dyed  deep  in  tints  of  love  and  justice.  Between 
Hardiker  and  the  sergeant  marches  Wilson,  —  a  fine- 
looking  corporal,  with  a  military  face,  eye,  and  figure ; 
moustached,  bearded,  eager,  —  such  a  face  as  I  have 
seen  in  Horace  Yernet's  battle-pieces.  A  good  marks 
man,  too,  is  Wilson ;  for  many  years  the  terror  of 
squirrels  in  the  woods  of  E .  Prince  and  Claypole 


94  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

cover  Hardiker  and  Wilson ;  while  I  march  behind 
the  sergeant,  right  in  the  folds  of  the  great  flag. 
Alongside,  in  the  line  of  file-closers,  go  West,  and 
lisping,  light-haired  Wiebel,  the  German  ;  and,  last,  the 
ever  sage,  serene,  and  satisfactory  Bias  Dickinson. 

I  almost  cheered  when  Bias  came  back  to  the  color- 
guard  (from  which  he  has  been  absent  for  a  time,  funny 
fellow  ! )  from  the  jury-room  down  at  the  Court  House 
of  Baton  Rouge,  whilom  his  headquarters.  Did  I  not 
dine  there  once  with  him,  on  stewed  pigeons?  when 
Bias,  a  prime  confiscator,  had  got  hold  of  a  hand-organ, 
with  which,  after  dinner,  he  soothed  and  gratified  his 
guest  by  grinding  out  tune  after  tune ;  assuaging  the 
perturbed  spirits  of  the  muddy  fellow  from  the  camp,  as 
if  he  were  a  Saul  in  all  his  purple,  — an  entertainment 
most  gracefully  bestowed,  with  sage,  silent,  and  serene 
demeanor,  and  hand  turning  untiringly  at  the  handle. 

So  we  go  out  of  the  field  into  the  road,  in  the"  centre 
of  the  long  column,  with  banners  waving,  and,  I  hope, 
the  true  light  of  battle  upon  our  faces,  —  soldiers  in  a 
noble  cause, — farmer  and  mechanic,  merchant  and 
preacher,  shoulder  to  shoulder.  "  Boom  ! "  go  the  far 
away  guns.  We  are  moving  rapidly  to  the  front :  so  the 
other  regiments  and  the  stout  battery-men  and  the  yel 
low  cavalry-men  give  way  for  us,  cheering  us  on. 
Down  a  cross-road  toward  the  river,  a  sweet  south 
wind  shaking  white  cloud-favors  out  of  every  window 
in  heaven  at  us ;  the  sun  smiling  God-speed,  and  the 
lady  rose-bushes,  fyom  fence-corners  like  balconies, 
showing  their  blossom-handkerchiefs. 


"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH."  95 

A  sweet  woodland  by-road !  We  rush  forward  at 
double-quick.  Ah,  here  is  war  indeed  !  —  a  colonel  on 
the  general's  staff,  just  wounded  by  the  retreating  rebel 
pickets,  lying  by  the  roadside.  I  catch  a  glimpse  of 
him  on  an  extemporized  litter  of  rails,  as  he  lies  under 
the  surgeon's  hands.  We  rush  by,  tramp,  tramp,  at 
the  double-quick ;  and  he  pushes  himself  up  a  little 
with  his  hands,  so  that  we  can  see  his  pale  face,  just 
wounded  ahead  here  in  the  road  where  we  are  going. 

Cautiously,  boys  !  A  few  steps,  and  we  stumble  over 
the  handsome  horse  of  the  wounded  colonel,  dead  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  with  eight  bullets  through  him. 
There,  too,  is  the  bloody  boot  of  his  rider,  hastily  cut 
off  after  the  wounding  was  accomplished.  A  company 
are  detailed  as  flankers ;  and,  as  they  go  through  the 
wood  a  few  rods  distant  from  the  road,  they  hear  the 
groans  of  other  wounded  men.  They  cannot  go  to 
them ;  for  to  stop  would  be  to  expose  the  whole  flank 
of  the  column  to  danger. 

Now  we  pass  other  dead  horses  belonging  to  cavalry 
men,  which  were  shot  in  the  road  by  the  retreating  rebel 
pickets.  At  length,  we  reach  a  fork  where  is  a  regiment 
drawn  up,  and  Gen.  Grover  sitting  on  horseback  with 
his  staff,  —  a  light-haired  man,  with  face  sufficiently 
resolute,  his  beard  cut  in  a  peak,  and  wearing  a  cava 
lier  hat.  We  halt  only  for  a  moment.  The  general's 
pointing  hand  indicates  the  direction  we  are  to  take  :  so 
down  we  go  through  a  wooded  road,  driving  before  us 
the  enemy's  pickets ;  our  flankers  in  the  woods  seeing 
them  mount  their  horses  and  gallop  off  as  we  come 


96  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

within  musket-range.  Presently  we  go  by  their  camps, 
where  they  have  cut  on  trees  some  defiance  or  warning 
to  us  :  "  Beware,  Yankee  !  this  is  a  hard  road  to  tra 
vel." 

By  the  side  of  the  column  rides  an  officer  of  engineers, 
who  stops  every  now  and  then  to  note  a  by-path  or 
prominent  knoll,  or  draw  a  rough  plan  of  the  wood. 
The  dust  has  hardly  settled  yet  along  the  road  from  the 
tramp  of  their  retreating  infantry.  We  press  on  close 
behind,  until  at  length  the  column  halts  close  within  the 
range  of  the  Port-Hudson  batteries. 

It  is  now  just  after  sunset.  I  hitch  my  cartridge- 
box  a  little  off  my  shoulder  for  relief,  and  bathe  my 
head  and  face  in  a  roadside  pool.  At  the  head  of  the 
column,  spy-glasses  are  being  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
among  the  officers.  What  is  it  they  and  the  skirmish 
ers  see  to  the  northward  and  westward,  from  the  bend 
in  the  road?  If  we  camp  here  for  the  night,  we  rank 
and  file  will  go  forward  to  see  for  ourselves.  They  are 
the  outer  earthworks  of  the  rebel  stronghold.  As  the 
dusk  deepens,  the  column  turns,  and  back  we  go,  — we 
fellows  in  the  very  heart  of  it ;  the  crimson  stripes  of 
the  standard  leaping  and  flowing  out  above  us  like  cur 
rents  of  arterial  blood. 

We  fell  back  that  Saturday  night  two  or  three  miles, 
then  camped  in  the  woods.  Later,  a  battery  went  for 
ward  to  a  position  near  that  to  which  we  advanced,  and 
fired  shells  for  a  while  toward  the  rebel  intrenchments. 
Our  blankets  and  baggage  were  four  miles  behind.  We 
hung  equipments  and  haversacks  on  the  gun-stocks ; 


"INTO  THE  LION'S  MOUTH."  97 

and,  wet  with  sweat,  lay  down  in  our  clothes,  without 
covering.  Wilson  and  I  laid  rails  on  the  ground ;  then 
made  a  sloping  roof  of  rails  overhead,  which  was  some 
protection  against  the  damp. 

The  eyelids  shut  together  like  a  pair  of  scissor-blades, 
and  cut  the  thread  of  consciousness  ;  but,  in  the  midst  of 
my  dreaming,  crash  after  crash  broke  upon  my  ear  like 
the  chorus  of  doomsday.  We  all  jumped  to  our  posts  ; 
for  we  thought  the  hour  of  battle  had  come.  I  looked 
at  my  watch  by  the  light  of  a  few  embers.  It  was  half- 
past  eleven.  At  the  time,  we  were  in  complete  igno 
rance  of  the  events  that  were  transpiring.  We  know 
now  that  it  was  the  fleet  just  passing  the  batteries,  and  all 
this  was  the  uproar  of  the  bombardment.  Through  the 
trees  to  the  westward  arose  the  flashes,  incessant,  like 
the  winking  heat-lightning  of  a  hot  summer  evening. 
Through  the  air  rolled  reports,  —  now  isolated,  now 
twenty  combining  in  a  grand  crash,  now  a  continuous 
roll  of  them,  —  a  thundering  rub-a-dub,  as  if  the  giants 
were  going  to  storm  heaven  again,  and  were  beating  a 
reveille  to  summon  every  gnome  and  all  the  genii  and 
each  slumbering  Titan  to  fall  in  for  a  charge.  The  cen 
tre  of  the  regiment,  the  color-guard,  rested  in  the  road. 
The  pickets,  four  or  five  rods  off,  could  see  the  falling 
of  bombs,  the  streams  of  comet-like  rockets,  and  the 
outlines  of  the  shore-batteries  lit  up  by  the  cannon- 
flames.  It  went  on,  and  we  sat  listening  with  our 
hands  close  at  our  guns.  Then,  at  last,  the  heavens 
reddened  high  and  far,  with  a  fiercer  and  steadier  glare, 
that  moved  slowly  southward,  crimsoning  in  turn 

5 


98  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  moss  and  old  scars  on  the  north,  on  the  west,  on  the 
south-west,  of  the  tree-trunks.  Meantime  came  up  the 
boom  of  cannon,  slowly  receding  in  the  same  direction. 
So  we  heard  the  swan-song  of  the  stern  old  "Mississippi," 
—  abandoned,  beaten  with  shot,  ragged  through  her 
whole  frame  where  shells  had  torn  and  burst.  On  that 
night,  a  freight  of  dead  men  were  on  her  deck,  and  the 
bodies  of  drowned  men  floated  about  her  hoary  hull  for 
retinue!  Then  came  a  crash,  —  a  light  making  all 
bright,  flung  back  from  the  burnished  gun-stocks,  from 
the  pool  by  the  roadside,  revealing  the  watching  soldiers 
and  the  slain  steeds  fallen  headlong  in  the  road  in  the 
midst  of  the  camp.  So  passed  the  veteran  ship  through 
fire  and  earthquake-shock  to  an  immortality  in  history. 


FALLING   BACK.  99 


CHAPTER 


FALLING     BACK. 

SUNDAY  morning  came.  We  had  expected  confidently 
all  through  the  night  to  be  ordered  into  battle  :  when 
light  broke,  with  the  dawn,  we  expected  to  hear  the 
shots  of  the  advancing  rebels.  All  was  still,  however. 
We  made  fires,  and  cooked  our  coffee  and  beef.  I  took 
out  my  portfolio  from  the  pocket  of  my  blouse,  and 
wrote  a  sheet  or  two  ;  then,  finding  a  clean  pool  in 
the  woods,  I  took  off  every  thing,  and  had  a  bath.  The 
whole  forenoon  wore  away  with  no  sign  of  activity. 
The  general  was  giving  us  a  rest  before  a  very  tough 
march.  Toward  noon,  one  of  Grover's  aides  came  up 
with  word  to  fall  back.  To  fall  back  !  —  were  we  going 
to  retreat,  then?  Back  we  go,  over  the  same  road  as 
yesterday.  As  we  pass  the  bridges,  we  see  parties  of 
men,  and  fuel  prepared.  "  The  enemy's  cavalry  will 
soon  be  after  us  !  "  I  hear  a  field-officer  say.  The  bridges 
are  to  be  burned  as  soon  as  we  have  crossed  them.  In 
an  hour  or  two,  we  are  back  at  the  encampment  of  Sat 
urday  noon,  passing,  as  we  march,  signs  of  a  hasty 
retreat  ;  among  them,  a  baggage-wagon  on  fire.  We 
sling  our  knapsacks  where  we  left  them,  swallow  a  few 
mouthfuls,  and  are  once  more  on  the  road. 


100  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

We  have  found  out  now  the  loss  of  the  "Mississippi ; " 
and  the  impression  spreads  that  we  have  met  with  great 
disaster,  and  are  retreating  in  disgrace.  There  is  no 
elasticity  now,  or  mirthfulness.  It  is  hard  work  to 
carry  the  knapsacks,  and  the  men  are  sullen.  Retreat 
ing  without  firing  a  shot ! 

Yesterday  we  felt  sure  of  a  battle  ;  but  the  enemy  fell 
back  before  us.  Now,  why  were  we  falling  back  before 
them?  We  halt,  every  half-hour  or  so;  when  every 
one  is  on  his  back  in  a  moment.  As  I  noticed  the  day 
before,  the  road  becomes  strewn  with  knapsacks  and 
blankets  ;  but  fewer  men  fall  out,  for  they  fear  capture 
by  the  enemy.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  it  begins 
to  rain.  I  never  knew  it  rain  so  hard  :  there  was  a  gene 
ral  uncorking  among  the  clouds.  The  road  becomes 
a  deep  pudding,  and  the  gutters  are  rivers.  We  are 
wet  to  the  skin.  I  throw  my  left  arm  against  my 
breast-pocket  to  shield  (as  much  as  I  can)  my  port 
folio,  which  has  my  precious  paper  and  pencils.  By 
great  care,  I  partly  succeed;  but  every  thing  else  is 
soaked.  Boots  become  filled  w^ith  water  that  runs  from 
the  clothes  into  them.  The  army  splashes  on  through 
the  rain,  dreary  and  disheartened.  Some  of  the  officers 
give  up  their  horses  to  tired  soldiers,  and  shoulder  mus 
kets. 

At  five  o'clock  we  reach  a  field,  where  we  are  to  en 
camp.  Gen.  Banks  assigned  it  when  he  passed  in  the 
morning.  Since  then,  creation  has  put  on  a  new  face  ; 
but  we  must  obey  orders.  In  we  turn,  therefore,  into 
a  swamp,  to  pass  the  most  tedious  night  of  our  lives. 


FALLING   BACK.  101 

A  dreary  Louisiana  swamp !  The  space  had  been 
cleared,  and  was  full  of  charred  stumps  and  logs,  half 
floating,  half  lying  in  the  mud.  There  was  a  terrible 
exhibition  of  democratic  licentiousness.  The  rain  had 
been  so  violent,  that  the  pools  —  the  "  lower  ten  mil 
lion  "  —  had  become  multiplied  ;  had  outvoted  the 
little  green  patches  of  terra  firma  that  held  themselves 
higher ;  and,  with  small  respect  to  the  minority,  were 
proceeding  fast  to  reduce  the  whole  thing  to  a  lake. 
We  waded  and  stumbled  forward  to  the  middle  of  this 
dreary  quagmire.  Could  we  stop  here  for  the  night? 
We  had  marched  very  rapidly  ten  or  twelve  miles, 
most  of  the  way  in  heavy  order ;  and  were  exhausted. 
The  roads  were  almost  impassable  :  moreover,  the  gene 
ral  had  left  orders  for  us  to  stay  here.  We  had  no 
choice. 

Wet  to  the  skin,  I  threw  off  my  knapsack  and  equip 
ments  into  the  mud,  too  tired  to  hold  them.  We  man 
aged,  as  night  fell,  to  get  a  fire  started  in  a  charred 
stump  ;  then,  through  the  evening  (which  was  dark  as 
pitch),  we  went  stumbling  about  in  the  bog  to  find 
sticks  for  fuel, — fishing  out  of  mud-holes  such  half- 
burnt  branches  and  trunks  as  we  could  lift.  Fre 
quently  the  rain  would  pour  in  sheets ;  when  the  fire, 
in  spite  of  all  we  could  do,  would  dwindle  down  to  a 
mere  spark. 

About  ten  o'clock,  I  managed  to  make  a  little  coffee. 
Then  putting  my  knapsack  into  the  mud,  in  the  highest 
and  dryest  spot  I  could  find,  drawing  my  two  blankets 
about  my  shoulders,  and  my  rubber  havelock  over  my 


102  THE    COLOR-GUAttD. 

ears,  I  sat  down  for  the  night.  As  I  sat  on  my  knap 
sack,  it  settled  down  into  the  mud  until  it  just  kept  me 
out  of  the  pool.  My  boots  sank  into  the  mud  half-way 
to  the  tops.  I  rested  my  elbows  on  my  knees,  and 
chewed  the  cud  of  misery.  Once  in  a  while,  some 
one  waded  forth  after  wood.  On  every  stump  and 
log  were  figures  wrapped  up  in  rubber  blankets,  trying 
to  sleep.  I  mistook  Silloway,  thus  enveloped,  for 
a  charred  stump,  and  began  to  haul  him  to  the 
fire ;  when  a  feeble  and  dismal  voice  proceeded 
forth. 

Nothing  was  ever  more  wretched ;  and,  when  morn 
ing  came  at  last,  —  swimming  up  through  the  pouring 
heavens  to  us,  —  such  a  half-drowned,  haggard,  bedrag 
gled  set  as  the  regiment  was,  horses  and  men !  We 
had  the  consolation  of  thinking  we  had  touched  the 
bottom  of  misery,  at  any  rate.  Any  lower  deep  there 
surely  cannot  be.  Snakes  and  crabs,  no  proper  food 
or  drink,  wet  to  the  skin,  the  deadly  vine  weeping  its 
"venomous  dew"  upon  us,  —  there  could  be  nothing 
farther  down.  Mildewed,  frowzy,  horrible  ! 

Still  there  was  a  very  fair  amount  of  good-nature. 
One  rather  portly  officer  had  tumbled  off  his  log  during 
the  night  into  the  mud,  which  made  a  great  laugh. 
Poor  Corporal  Wright  came  to  our  fire  in  the  morn 
ing. 

"  How  are  you  now,  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  gay  and  festive,  —  more  than  '  How  are  you  ? ' 
It  don't  express  it "  (delivered  with  a  feeble  and  dismal 
smile). 


FALLING   BACK.  103 

* 

There  is  spunk  in  the  regiment  yet.  We  have 
scarcely  any  thing  to  eat.  Nobody  wants  to  eat  much 
of  any  thing  ;  but  the  foragers  go  out. 

This  matter  of  foraging  is  a  hard  one.  I  have  seen 
now  what  a  scourge  to  a  country  an  invading  army  is. 
We  were  turned  loose.  As  I  shall  presently  record, 
the  Government,  under  our  guns,  collected  a  large 
amount  of  cotton ;  and  we  were  suffered  to  kill  cattle, 
pigs,  and  poultry.  All  this  marauding  went  on  ruth 
lessly  and  wastefully.  We  left  the  road  behind  us 
foul  with  the  odor  of  decaying  carcasses.  Cattle  were 
killed,  a  quarter  or  so  taken  out  of  them,  and  the 
remainder  left  to  the  buzzards.  So  with  sheep  and 
poultry.  Pigs  were  bayoneted,  sugar-houses  plundered 
of  sugar  and  molasses,  private  dwellings  entered ;  and, 
if  any  resistance  was  offered  by  the  owner,  his  arms 
were  wrested  from  him,  and  he  overmastered.  To  be 
sure,  there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt  of  the  sympathy 
of  all  these  people  with  the  rebel  cause.  We  saw 
nothing  of  any  young  white  men,  —  only  old  men, 
negroes,  and  women  left  behind  by  the  young  men 
•when  they  entered  the  Confederate  army.  I  have  not 
heard  that  any  were  actually  slain  in  these  marauding 
expeditions,  or  that  insult  was  offered  to  any  white 
woman  ;  but  property  was  handled,  destroyed,  or  taken, 
without  scruple. 

I  took  no  part  in  any  active  foraging,  though  I  own 
I  was  more  than  once  a  partaker  in  the  booty.  It  was, 
in  fact,  our  only  way  to  live.  Government-bread  and 
poor  bacon  were  really  insufficient  to  support  strength 


104  THE    COLOK-GUAKD. 

g 

under  our  work  and  exposure.  When  Bias  offered  me 
some  fine  cutlets,  Sunday  morning,  from  a  calf  he  had 
just  killed,  I  took  them  without  much  reluctance  ;  and 
so,  when  Sile  Dibble  brought  in  steaks  almost  by  the 
armful,  and  canteens  of  molasses,  and  haversacks  of 
sugar,  I  was  glad,  hungry  and  tired  as  I  was,  to  take 
the  share  he  offered  me.  If  I  did  no  active  foraging, 
it  was,  perhaps,  more  due  to  want  of  enterprise,  and 
because  there  were  enough  others  to  do  it,  than  because 
my  conscience  stood  in  the  way.  Am  I  demoralized? 
But  it  was  the  only  way  to  live.  Our  rations  were 
insufficient,  and  the  commissary-department  seemed  to 
expect  we  should  find  a  good  part  of  our  food  for  our 
selves.  It  is,  indeed,  sad;  and  there  was  enough  that 
was  pathetic.  War  is  horrible,  and  this  feature  of 
plunder  is  one  of  its  horrors. 

All  this  had  humorous  features  too.  To  see  Bias 
knowingly  and  amiably  dissect  a  stolen  calf,  was  a 
cheerful  sight;  so,  too,  Sile  Dibble,  mounted  on  a  lean 
horse  which  Gottlieb  had  stolen,  careering  across  the 
lines  with  geese  and  chickens  held  by  the  legs,  flutter 
ing  and  screaming,  in  one  fist,  and  a  bag  of  meal  in  the 
other ;  so  Pat  O'Toole,  our  wild  Irishman,  tearing 
through  the  camp,  after  having  shot  eight  cows,  without 
his  hat,  screaming  to  the  "  bys  to  coom  afther  his  coos 
afore  thim  spalpeens  of  batthery-men  had  tuck  thim 
intirely."  These  were  humorous  features ;  but  there 
was  more  to  grieve  over  than  to  laugh  about,  and  I 
fear  it  will  be  thought  to  speak  ill  for  our  New-England 
men  that  they  take  so  easily  to  this  habit  of  "  loot." 


FALLING    BACK.  105 

March  21.  — We  staid  in  the  swamp  through  Mon 
day  forenoon.  At  noon  came  the  order  to  pack  up, 
which  was  done  with  thanksgivings  ;  and  we  waded  and 
paddled  out  to  the  road,  just  as  the  sun  appeared  once 
more  through  the  clouds.  We  marched,  for  the  dis 
tance  of  about  a  mile,  through  a  lane  running  westward  ; 
coming,  at  last,  to  an  elevated  field  on  the  river-bank, 
at  the  Montecino  Bayou,  —  a  pleasant,  well-drained 
spot,  —  where  we  camped  at  once  to  dry  and  rest 
ourselves  ;  the  stacks  of  guns,  as  usual,  running  in  a 
long  line,  with  the  shelter-tents  behind  them ;  the  two 
flags,  in  their  glazed  cases,  crossed  on  the  middle  stack, 
indicating  the  centre  of  the  line.  The  powerful  sun 
soon  dried  our  outer  clothing ;  and,  content  with  that, 
at  nightfall  we  lay  down  to  sleep  ;  willing  enough  to 
postpone,  until  another  day,  the  drying  of  shirts  and 
drawers  and  the  contents  of  our  knapsacks. 

We  had  come  to  a  very  pretty  spot,  and  in  such 
contrast  to  the  camp  we  had  just  abandoned  !  I  re 
member,  Ruskin  says,  somewhere,  that  a  picture,  and, 
I  believe,  a  natural  landscape,  has  a  shut-up,  stifled 
look,  unless  there  is  water  in  it.  I  have  felt  that,  I 
think ;  and  now  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  free  again, 
with  our  fine  prospect  southward  down  the  broad  river. 
To  the  east  of  the  camp  was  a  grove  of  young  trees, 
hung  about  with  tassels  of  moss,  and  heavy  cordage  of 
strange  vines ;  the  trees  just  leaving  forth  under  the 
influence  of  the  Southern  spring.  In  the  edge  of  this 
grove,  at  the  bottom  of  a  ravine,  ran  a  little  brook. 
From  the  trees  we  could  gather  moss  and  leaves  to 

5* 


106  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

make  our  beds  more  soft,  and  in  the  brook  we  could 
bathe.  Moreover,  a  few  rods  southward  from  the 
camp  was  a  broad,  deep  bayou,  approached  by  green, 
sloping  banks,  where  we  could  swim  as  far  and  deep  as 
we  chose.  It  was  luxury  itself,  Tuesday  morning,  to 
strip  off  our  mouldy  garments,  and,  while  they  lay  sun 
ning  on  the  grass,  wash  the  stiff  muscles ,  and  blistered, 
parboiled  feet,  in  the  brook,  dappled  darkly  by  the 
shadows  of  the  boughs  and  leaves. 

Our  respite,  however,  was  a  short  one.  The  night 
we  arrived  at  this  pleasant  camp,  the  colonel  passed 
down  through  the  tents  to  see  what  our  condition  was. 
He  stopped  at  Capt.  Morton's  tent,  which  was  close  by 
ours ;  and  the  captain  brought  out  a  bottle  of  currant 
wine,  just  from  home,  calling  me  up  to  have  a  sip  also. 

The  colonel  spoke  very  feelingly  of  the  discomfort  to 
which  we  had  been  exposed,  and  added,  "At  any  rate, 
now  we  shall  have  a  rest  for  a  day  or  two."  Tuesday 
forenoon,  therefore,  I  paddled  about  in  the  brook  at  my 
leisure,  feeling  sure  of  ample  time.  At  noon,  however, 
the  drum  sounded  once  more ;  and  the  order  came  to 
pack  every  thing  again,  and  fall  in  at  once.  Sudden 
orders  had  come,  to  march.  This  time,  we  were  to 
go  out  to  protect  a  heavy  train  of  wagons,  about 
to  proceed  out  along  the  Port -Hudson  road  to 
gather  the  cotton  stored  everywhere  in  the  planters' 
barns.  Our  march  was  along  the  same  road  we  had 
previously  traversed,  and  with  similar  incidents,  though 
at  first  with  less  excitement ;  for  it  was  no  new  thing 
now.  The  regiment  was  footsore,  jaded,  and  suffering 


FALLING   BACK.  107 

for  the  want  of  sleep.  Both  my  collar-bones  turned 
peace-democrats  ;  and  in  every  cell,  with  an  ache  for  a 
tongue,  protested  against  a  further  prosecution  of  hos 
tilities.  We  toiled  along,  however ;  at  every  planta 
tion,  as  we  passed,  seeing  mule-teams  loaded  with 
cotton,  and  quantities  of  the  snowy  product  tumbling 
from  the  windows  and  doors  of  sheds  and  barns. 

We  marched  out  seven  or  eight  miles  before  we 
halted.  As  we  advanced,  we  began  to  hear  reports  of 
the  enemy  from  negroes  ;  and  at  length  reached  a  plan 
tation  from  which  a  rebel  force  had  just  retreated.  The 
rebels  were  hardly  out  of  sight  as  we  came  up,  and  we 
followed  close  after  them  down  the  road.  At  length, 
within  about  five  miles  of  the  batteries,  we  came  to  a 
halt,  and  encamped  in  the  edge  of  a  grove, — for  the 
night,  as  we  supposed.  Many  of  the  men  were  much 
fatigued,  and  sadly  footsore.  The  march  had  been  a 
hard  one  for  me  ;  for  the  sun,  during  the  afternoon,  was 
most  oppressive :  but  I  made  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
cooked  a  dish  of  meat  on  my  plate,  and  felt  better. 
The  men,  generally,  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  at 
once,  under  the  trees.  Bivins,  however,  went  to  bathe 
in  a  brook  near ;  and  I  took  my  seat  to  watch  the  bag 
gage.  It  had  just  grown  dark,  when  word  was  passed 
along  the  line,  in  a  low  tone,  to  be  up  and  off  at  once. 

It  was  hard  enough ;  but  it  would  have  been  the 
height  of  imprudence  —  two  isolated  brigades  as  we 
were  —  to  spend  the  night  within  so  short  a  distance  of 
a  powerful  army  of  the  enemy,  perfectly  aware  of  our 
being  in  the  neighborhood.  The  grove,  therefore,  gave 


108  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

up  its  sleepers.  In  five  minutes,  the  line  was  moving 
out  of  the  shadow  into  the  road,  and,  under  the  star 
light,  marching  silently  and  rapidly  back. 

I  like  a  night-march  :  the  air  is  more  bracing,  the 
roads  less  dusty,  and  there  is  far  more  scope  for  ro 
mance.  In  the  afternoon,  I  had  had  a  severe  time  ;  but 
the  night-march  home  was  an  easy  one.  I  could  carry 
easily  all  my  own  baggage,  though  we  were  in  heavy 
order ;  and  occasionally  spell  the  sergeant,  who  almost 
gave  out  with  lameness,  by  shouldering  the  big  flag. 
There  was  ample  room  for  the  play  of  fancy.  The 
rebel  scouts,  no  doubt,  had  already  crept  into  the  camp 
we  had  just  abandoned,  looking  at  the  embers  where 
we  cooked  our  suppers  to  judge  how  long  we  had  been 
gone ;  while  the  cavalry  swept  forward  to  occupy  the 
road  as  we  retired.  The  regiment,  in  general,  however, 
suffered  sadly.  Many  marched  with  bare,  bleeding 
feet,  and,  toward  the  end  of  the  route,  sank  to  the 
ground  with  fainting  limbs,  to  pass  the  night  by  the 
roadside.  We  reached  our  camp  of  the  morning  at 
midnight,  —  the  colonel  straight  on  his  horse,  sitting  up 
in  the  starlight,  at  the  entrance,  to  direct  the  column  ; 
his  voice,  as  he  gave  the  last  orders,  full  of  sympathy 
with  his  way-worn  command.  We  only  had  strength 
to  spread  our  rubber-blankets,  and  fling  ourselves  upon 
the  ground. 

Next  morning,  the  regiment  were  a  poor,  languid 
crowd  of  hobbling  cripples, — putting  up  shelter-tents 
with  stiffened  bones,  crawling  around  fires  to  cook  coffee, 
and  fry,  on  their  tin  plates,  pillaged  meat  and  potatoes. 


FALLING    BACK.  109 

During  the  whole  forenoon,  those  who  gave  -out  the 
night  before  came  straggling  in.  This  chronicler  was 
tired  and  stiff;  but  he  made  out  to  wash  his  shirt  and 
himself,  —  two  undertakings  requiring  some  degree  of 
resolution.  At  night,  however,  I  own,  I  was  used  up. 
I  felt  feverish,  and  next  morning  dosed  strongly  with 
quinine,  which  put  Niagara  Falls  into  each  ear.  Dur 
ing  that  day,  I  was  on  the  sick-list.  The  next  day,  the 
regiment  was  ordered  back  to  Baton  Rouge.  With 
some  mortification,  I  left  the  regiment  to  march ;  and, 
with  several  scores  of  used-up  men,  made  the  passage 
down  on  a  steamer. 

I  write  now  in  the  old  camp,  under  the  magnolias 
(which  has  become  home  to  us),  ragged,  dirty,  con 
tented,  burnt  like  an  Indian,  unkempt,  unshaven,  but 
about  ready  now  for  another  start.  During  the  week, 
we  have  marched  fifty  miles,  heavily  weighted,  through 
mud,  dust,  heat,  and  a  deluge  of  rain.  We  were  on 
the  brink  of  an  engagement,  having  driven  the  enemy 
into  the  Port-Hudson  intrenchments, — following  them 
to  within  easy  rifle-range  of  the  batteries.  We  find  it 
was  not  the  intention  of  the  general  to  fight  a  battle, 
unless  himself  attacked.  W"e  simply  made  a  demon 
stration  in  aid  of  the  fleet,  a  portion  of  which  succeeded 
in  passing  up  the  river. 


110  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER  Yin. 

THE    GARDEN    OF   LOUISIANA. 

MARCH  29. — This  forenoon,  we  are  encamped  at 
Donaldsonville,  —  a  point  fifty  or  sixty  miles  below  Baton 
Rouge,  on  the  western  bank  of  the  great  river.  It  is 
the  pleasantest  camp  we  have  ever  had.  The  neigh 
borhood  of  this  town,  and  the  country  along  the  bayou 
La  Fourche,  which  here  opens  out  of  the  Mississippi, 
is  said  to  be  the  garden  of  Louisiana. 

The  landscape  just  about  the  camp  here  must  be 
very  like  Holland.  The  tents  are  pitched  in  a  perfectly 
level  field,  —  stretching,  without  a  fence,  far  and  wide, 
with  only  here  and  there  a  tree.  Along  one  side  of  the 
field  runs  the  bayou,  behind  its  Levee.  The  water 
now  brims  up  nearly  to  the  edge  of  this  Levee,  though 
on  the  land  side  there  must  be  a  slope  of  six  or  eight 
feet  from  the  top  of  the  bank  to  the  surface  of  the  land. 
If  an  opening  were  made  in  the  Levee,  our  camp  would 
be  instantly  drowned  by  the  rush  of  waters.  Sloops 
and  schooners  of  considerable  tonnage  sail  up  and  down 
the  bayou,  and  one  full-sized  clipper-ship  lies  at  anchor 
just  opposite  us.  To  see  these  craft,  we  are  obliged 
to  look  up.  The  water-line  of  the  bayou  is  about  on 


THE  GARDEN  OF  LOUISIANA.          Ill 

a  level  with  our  eyes  ;  so  that  the  hulls  and  rigging  of 
the  vessels  are  in  the  air,  over  our  heads.  At  the  mouth 
of  the  bayou  is  a  fort,  with  pointed  angles,  smoothly 
cut,  and  turfed  with  green.  It  is  very  regularly  built, 
with  ditch,  counterscarp,  bastion,  and  berme.  This 
again,  I  imagine,  is  a  feature  which  this  landscape  has 
in  common  with  that  of  the  Low  Countries.  Vauban 
himself  might  have  built  this  little  fort ;  and  Marlbo- 
rough  and  Villars  would  feel  quite  at  home  manoeuvring 
here. 

Of  course,  we  have  very  little  idea  where  we  are 
going,  or  what  we  are  to  encounter ;  for  we  are  the  sol 
diers  of  a  general  who  keeps  his  own  counsel.  In  a 
day  or  two,  we  expect  to  march  from  here  to  Thibo- 
deaux,  and  thence  onward  to  Berwick  Bay.  We  have 
left  Baton  Kouge,  probably  not  to  see  it  again  during 
our  term  of  service.  We  marched  in  the  moonlight 
aboard  the  transport  that  was  to  bring  us  here,  two  or 
three  nights  ago.  I  lay  on  the  upper  deck,  propped  up 
by  my  knapsack,  and  took  my  farewell  of  the  buildings 
on  the  Levee.  I  have  taken  my  farewell  of  Ed.'s 
grave.  I  have  done  my  best  for  it.  The  cross  stands 
firm  and  straight  at  the  head  :  the  mound  above  it  is  high 
and  smooth,  and  green  with  clover.  The  vine  above, 
now  full  of  blossoms,  has  snowed  down  upon  the  turf 
a  whole  deep  drift  of  white  petals  ;  and  sweet  baby-buds, 
cradled  among  the  whispering  leaves  and  sprays,  rock 
to  and  fro  over  it  constantly  in  the  wind  of  spring. 

March  31. — At  Assumption  (I  guess  at  the  spell 
ing)  .  Charming,  —  perfectly  charming,  —  day,  place, 


112  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

sensations.  We  have  marched  twelve  or  thirteen  miles 
since  nine  o'clock  this  morning,  through  the  sweetest 
of  regions,  with  the  sweetest  of  air.  Now  we  pause 
for  the  night, — the  landscape  still  the  mild,  verdant, 
level  expanse  which  made  me  think  of  Holland  at  Do- 
naldsonville, — the  grand  bayou,  deep  and  swift,  riding 
along  above  the  heads  of  the  people.  Here  and  there, 
the  current,  eating  into  the  bank,  leaves  only  a  mere 
spadeful  between  the  rush  of  the  stream  and  the  plain 
below  it.  The  army  began  its  march  this  morning  at 
half-past  seven.  Punctually  at  the  time,  we  had  cooked 
and  eaten  breakfast.  Our  knapsacks  were  to  go  in 
baggage-wagons, — we  carrying  only  blankets,  equip 
ments,  and  weapons.  Among  our  indispensables,  how 
ever,  a  few  of  us  carry  certain  new  arrangements.  At 
McGill's  suggestion,  we  have  bought  a  coffee-pot,  a 
frying-pan,  and  a  kettle  for  boiling.  Wivers  carries 
the  coffee-pot  slung  at  his  side  :  Sergeant  Bivins  car 
ries  the  frying-pan  strapped  on  his  back, — handy, 
rather  ;  for  when  the  excellent  sergeant,  at  a  halt,  under 
the  hot  noon,  shall  throw  himself  backward  on  the  sod, 
as  soldiers  do,  he  shall  broil  himself  in  an  appropriate 
dish.  I  have,  strapped  to  my  belt,  the  boiler ;  its 
crocky  bottom  painting  thunder-clouds  on  the  blue  of 
my  right  thigh,  as  it  swings  to  and  fro.  It  will  hold 
two  or  three  quarts,  and  is  up  to  flour,  meal,  eggs, 
oysters,  or  any  thing  which  shall  come  to  the  omnive- 
rous  haversack  of  the  campaigner. 

We  have  been  brigaded  anew ;    being   still   in  the 
second  brigade  of  Grover's  division,  but  with  the  Twelfth 


THE   GARDEN   OF   LOUISIANA.  113 

Maine  associated  with  us,  instead  of  the  Ninety-first 
New  York.  Col.  Kimball,  of  the  Twelfth  Maine,  is 
now  our  brigadier. 

The  conditions  for  marching  to-day  are  excellent. 
Never  did  foot  of  military  patriot  press  the  broad  sole 
of  Uncle  Sam's  army-shoe  into  road  at  once  so  softly 
yielding,  yet  so  firmly  resisting ;  and,  for  air,  certain  it 
is,  that  through  scores  and  scores  of  leagues,  in  States 
openly  or  secretly  secesh,  —  Mississippi,  Tennessee, 
Kentucky,  —  certain  it  is,  that  over  all  this  distance, 
this  31st  of  March,  a  levee  of  atmosphere  of  equa 
torial  fervor  had  been  built  up.  But,  lo  !  the  cur 
rents  of  northern  air  broke  through  it  in  a  perfect 
crevasse  of  coolness,  inundating  all  these  Louisiana 
lowlands  with  its  refreshing  tide;  so  that,  although 
we  marched  fast,  the  drops  of  sweat  were  beaten  back, 
and  the  locks  of  the  soldier,  not  plastered  to  his  fore 
head,  danced  in  a  jolly  manner  in  the  breeze  of  home. 

I  have  seen  this  day  what  I  have  not  seen  before,  — 
estates  which  come  up  to  what  I  have  imagined  about 
the  homes  of  princely  planters,  two  or  three  of  them. 
The  first  we  came  upon  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
bayou.  I  was  marching,  not  in  the  road,  but  along 
the  ridge  of  the  Levee,  whence  I  could  overlook  the  long 
column,  the  sugar-fields,  and  the  distant  wood,  —  a 
wood  as  romantic  in  its  dim  blueness  as  if  I  looked  at 
ft,  not  through  a  league  or  so  of  space,  but  through 
time,  and  beheld  the  Forest  of  Ardennes  or  the  Grove 
of  Cicero  by  the  Fibrenus.  While  thus  marching,  — 
the  bayou  a  foot  or  two  from  my  path  on  one  side,  the 


114  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

road  six  or  eight  feet  down  on  the  other,  —  I  caught 
sight  of  thick  shrubbery,  a  chenille  embroidery  of  green 
tufting  the  bare  level  plain.  Then  came  into  view  a 
towering  roof,  and  the  stately  palings  of  an  enclosure 
befitting  a  princely  domain.  As  we  came  opposite, 
down  a  long  avenue,  the  perspective  led  the  eye  within 
the  open  portal  of  a  splendid  mansion  ;  from  whose  hall, 
ladies  and  children  looked  across  at  the  marching  army. 
Meantime,  the  air  was  full  of  sweet  scents  :  for  tropic 
plants,  like  Eastern  princes,  stretched  forth  their  arms 
from  the  enclosure,  and  with  odorous  gifts  flattered  the 
passers-by ;  and  a  tree  full  of  bell-shaped  blossoms  — 
the  airy  "  campanile "  of  the  garden  showing  rows  on 
rows  of  little  purple  chimes  —  "tolled  incense"  to  us. 
One  or  two  domains  like  this  I  saw,  and  many  more 
less  splendid,  yet  which  were  neat  and  pretty. 

Toward  noon,  it  grew  hotter  again.  The  "  crevasse  " 
by  which  the  north  wind  flowed  in  upon  us  was  stopped 
up,  and  the  hot,  unfriendly  air  of  the  South  had  its  own 
way  with  us.  We  were  in  light  marching  order  ;  but 
the  burden  bore  heavily  down.  I  remembered  how 
Don  Fulano  talked  to  John  Brent  on  the  ride  to  deliver 
Ellen  Clitheroe. 

"  Courage,  noble  master  !  You  ride  me  hard  ;  but  I 
have  a  great  reservoir  of  strength  here  in  my  loins  and 
limbs.  Never  fear,  you  can  draw  on  me  without 
danger." 

Something  like  that.  I  bestrode  a  more  humble 
beast :  "  Shanks's  horse "  we  used  to  call  it,  when  we 
were  boys.  He  made  no  such  fine  speeches.  In  fact, 


THE   GARDEN   OF   LOUISIANA.  115 

sometimes  I  feared  he  might  give  it- up ;  but  somehow 
the  sinews  and  fibres  always  had  a  little  more  try  in 
them. 

The  bands  of  the  division  are  playing  now  at  "  tat 
too."  They  have  been  playing  during  the  evening  with 
great  vigor,  particularly  one  bass-drum.  The  drum 
mer,  I  believe,  had  to  fall  out  to-day,  on  account  of 
his  ponderous  instrument ;  and  to-night  is  wreaking 
vengeance  upon  it,  until  it  bellows  through  the  camps 
far  and  wide.  Bivins,  who  sits  just  the  other  side  of 
the  candle  from  me,  believes  "the  boys  are  killing  pigs, 
and  have  hired  the  bands  to  play  to  drown  the  squeal 
ing." 

April  3. — We  are  in  camp  this  morning,  about 
three  miles  south  of  Thibodeaux,  at  Terre  Bonne, 
which  we  reached  yesterday  afternoon.  The  railroad 
from  New  Orleans  to  Brashear  City  is  a  few  rods  north 
of  us,  —  a  road  which  our  forces  hold,  and  along 
which,  this  forenoon  some  time,  when  the  engines  can 
get  to  it,  the  second  brigade  expects  to  take  its  first  car- 
ride  in  Louisiana. 

We  shall  carry  home  a  much  more  favorable  impres 
sion  as  to  the  resources  and  civilization  of  this  State 
than  we  should  have  had  if  we  had  not  passed  through 
this  country  of  the  La  Fourche.  From  Donaldsonville 
to  Terre  Bonne,  a  distance  of  nearly  forty  miles,  the 
aspect  of  the  country  varies  but  little.  It  is  thickly 
peopled ;  the  plantations  succeeding  one  another  as  do 
the  farms  in  any  populous  agricultural  region  of  the 
North. 


116  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Seldom  does  an  army  march  under  circumstances  so 
delightful.  The  miles  were  not  weary  ones ;  for  the 
same  really  remarkable  conditions  made  our  progress 
comparatively  easy  from  first  to  last,  —  a  bright  sky 
and  sun,  but  a  cool  northern  breeze,  and  a  road,  for  the 
most  part,  in  perfect  condition  to  receive  the  soldier's 
foot-fall.  On  one  side  rose  the  slope  of  the  Levee ; 
ten  or  twelve  feet  high  from  the  road,  two  or  three 
from  the  water  on  the  other  side.  TVTien  the  column 
halted,  we  could  run  up  the  slope,  then  stoop  to  the 
cool  bayou  to  drink,  or  to  wash  face,  hands,  and  feet. 
On  our  right,  as  we  marched,  we  passed,  now  houses 
of  moderate  size,  bare  of  elegance  —  sometimes  even 
squalid  in  appearance ;  now,  again,  mansions  of  com 
fortable  look ;  and,  not  unfrequently,  beautiful  seats, 
set  up  high  to  preserve  them  from  danger  in  case  of  a 
crevasse,  with  colonnades  ornamented  tastefully  with 
orange-groves  and  the  glorious  live-oak,  with  irees  full 
of  roses  instead  of  bushes. 

Plantation  after  plantation  !  Along  the  road  were 
white  palings,  or  often  the  pleasanter  enclosure  of  a 
rose-tree  hedge,  with  white  roses  all  out,  and  the  green 
of  a  richer  depth  than  we  know  it.  Sometimes  the 
planter  and  his  family  looked  out  at  us  from  behind  a 
ff  protection  "  posted  before  them  on  the  gate,  seated 
upon  the  broad  portico  under  the  wide  roof,  beneath 
wide-spreading  awnings,  with  open  doors  and  windows 
behind.  Then,  between  house  and  hedge,  these  mar 
vellous  gardens !  Tall  trees  overhung  them ;  with 
vines,  sometimes  nearly  as  tliick  as  the  trunks,  twining, 


TEE   GARDEN   OF   L/OOSULSA.  11  T 

supple  as  serpents,  from  root  to  topmost  bough,  — 
twining,  1—  ging  in  loops,  knotted  into  coils.  The*, 
mfrr—  ••A,  flowers  white  and  delicate,  adaaai  wfrk 
dewy  jewels,  scented  with  odors  incomparable  ;  flowers 
uncouth  and  spiny  ;  the  u*lim,*f*  here  exotic,  bnt  ''to 
the  manor  born/ite  gnarled  and  pricHy  stem  thickly  set 
with  pnrple  buds.  He  air  would  be  pungent  with 
sweetness  as.  the  column  marched  part. 

Such  tropic  luxury  of  air  and  vegetation!  These 
scents  and  zephyrs;  the  bbd^ongs  we  heard;  the 
sunuBnvlte  of  the  heavens;  the  broad  palm4eavea  aft 
the  planter's  portico  ;  these  blossoms  of  crimson  and 
saffron  and  white  ;  this  Jba  •»••§,  •*»  so  tailfB«lj 
and  laboring  under  its  freights  of  perfume,  —  aU  these 

;  afl  these,  and  I 
of  the 


u  II  •iiji  rTir-  -"  ^^  —  * 


the  garden  was  pMnrdf  gneraDy  we  came  to  a 
huge  gate,  upon  and  about  which  would  be  dnstered 
the  negro  fine  of  the  whole  estate,  old  and  young. 
From  this  a  md  BH,  dwm  wfciA,  at  40  *tawof  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  perhaps  ,  we  could   see   Ae  white 
chimneys  of  die  sugar-mai:  the  village  rf  negro  caKns  ; 
cr^  on  aciCT  of  cwirH,  stretching  cfar  to  the 
five*  on  4e  Terge  of  Ae  komon. 
At  noon  of  yesterday,  we  came  to  TUadean.     As 
we  entered  the  village,  die  drums  struck  up.      lie. 
footsore  men  forgot  to  hobble  ;  die  melting  men  forgot 
We  were  aU  strait  and  solfierrj;  for  die 


118  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

march  was  nearly  finished.  The  streets  of  the  village 
were  full  of  people,  upon  whom  it  became  us  to  make 
an  impression ;  and  the  sound  of  the  drum  and  fife  is  a 
spur  to  the  soul.  We  were  dusty  and  sweaty ;  but  I 
think  we  made  a  good  appearance.  The  colonel  was  on 
his  horse  again ;  the  day  before,  and  to-day,  he  had 
walked  more  than  half  the  route,  giving  his  horse  to 
tired  privates  :  so  the  chaplain,  who  has  carried  a  gun 
and  knapsack,  besides  going  on  foot.  We  unfurled 
the  two  flags,  and  set  them  upright.  The  road,  as  we 
approached  Thibodeaux,  had  been  growing  even  more 
lovely ;  and  now,  in  the  village,  the  climax  of  beauty 
was  reached. 

To  go  from  Baton  Rouge  to  Thibodeaux  is  like 
changing  from  the  outer  petals  to  the  heart  of  a  full 
blown  rose.  Baton  Rouge,  once  fresh  and  pretty, 
is  now  curled  up  and  withered  by  the  heats  of  war ;  but 
the  blossom  grows  fresher,  and  here  in  the  centre  is  the 
reservoir  of  honey,  —  the  place  where  the  bee  sucks. 
Each  little  cottage  had  its  garden ;  every  gable  was 
embowered ;  every  window  and  pilaster  buried  in 
vines  ;  every  garden  gilt-edged  with  ripe  oranges  along 
the  borders.  Puffs  of  wind,  like  scented  exquisites, 
sprang  out  over  the  blossoms,  — the  gayest  sprites  that 
ever  were,  —  and,  seizing  for  partners  our  two  colors, 
—  rather  faded  and  dishevelled  belles, — danced  them 
up  and  down  in  a  brisk  measure.  The  streets  of  the 
village  were  full  of  its  hybrid  population.  Very  few 
jet-black  ones  there  were,  and  not  many  thoroughly 
white,  but  throngs  on  throngs  of  mixed-blood,  —  from 


THE  GARDEN  OF  LOUISIANA.         119 

deep  mulattoes,  up  through  quadroon  and  octoroon,  to 
fair  boys  and  girls  with  complexion  just  made  rich  and 
vivid  with  a  dash  of  the  tiger-lily.  Not  a  pleasant  or 
creditable  story  is  it,  —  this  tale  of  corruptness  which 
we  can  read  in  the  faces  of  the  population  whenever  we 
pass  through  a  village,  or  scan  a  crowd  of  plantation- 
hands  gathered  on  a  fence  or  under  a  hedge  to  look  at 
us  as  we  pass. 

April  5. — At  the  "Bayou  Boauf."  The  bayou  is 
one  of  those  characteristic  Louisiana  water-courses 
which  do  so  differently  from  water  in  other  parts  of  the 
world,  —  riding  over  a  district,  instead  of  boring  its  way 
through  it.  The  land  slopes  back  from  the  river-bank ; 
so  that  the  drainage  of  our  camp  is  toward  the  swamp, 
a  short  distance  in  the  rear,  instead  of  toward  the 
bayou.  It  is  a  dreamy  afternoon.  A  heavy  haze 
buries  the  distance,  and  veils  even  the  trees  and  planta 
tions  a  little  way  off  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
I  sit  on  the  huge  root  of  a  live-oak,  whose  heavy  top 
hangs  far  out  over  the  water,  giving  me  a  dense  shade, — 
me  and  the  brilliant  little  minnows  that  I  see  swimming 
up  in  shoals  in  the  quiet  water,  as  I  raise  my  eyes. 

We  did  not  leave  Terre  Bonne  until  yesterday  fore 
noon  ;  making  the  whole  time  of  our  stay  there  a  day 
and  a  half.  We  were  piled,  thick  as  we  could  sit,  upon 
platform-cars,  and  then  brought  eighteen  miles  to  this 
point.  The  road  was  a  level,  broad-gauge  track,  over 
which  the  engine  drew  us  rapidly.  We  had  the  best 
opportunity  we  have  yet  had  of  seeing  a  wild  Louisiana 
morass.  For  u  long  distance,  we  went  through  a  dense 


120  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

cypress-swamp, — such  an  one  as  we  have  not  seen 
before,  —  a  dense  growth  of  cypresses,  with  a  very 
heavy  undergrowth  between  the  tall  trunks,  and,  be 
neath  that,  a  thick  mat  of  water-plants  lying  upon  the 
surface  of  the  fen.  It  was  like  a  wall  of  vegetation, 
almost,  on  each  side ;  through  which,  occasionally,  we 
could  see  deep,  dark  bayous  flowing,  and  black  pools. 
Alligators  several  feet  long  lay  on  logs,  or  in  the 
water,  with  their  backs  just  rising  above ;  and,  on 
floating  timbers  and  little  islands  of  earth,  snakes, 
single  or  in  coils,  lay  basking  in  the  sun.  Later  in  the 
season,  I  suppose,  we  should  have  seen  even  larger 
numbers  of  this  agreeable  population.  Huge  vines, 
coiled  into  knots,  bound  the  cypress-trunks  and  other 
growths  into  one  mass  of  vegetation.  We  saw,  too, 
numbers  of  palms ;  which  here  grow  short,  by  stumps 
and  pools,  spreading  abroad  their  wide-divided  leaves, 
as  if  they  were  showing  hands  at  cards. 

April  10.  — We  have  made  another  move,  and  are 
now  at  "Brashear  City," — on  the  embouchure  of  the 
Atchafalaya,  —  a  city  which  consists  of  a  wharf  and  a 
railroad-depot,  and  but  little  besides.  My  feet  rest  in 
the  crushed  clover,  upon  which  our  blankets  were 
spread  as  we  slept  last  night ;  and  through  the  opening 
of  the  tent,  just  far  enough  off  to  prevent  our  being 
swept  away  by  the  tail  of  some  enterprising  alligator, 
I  see  flowing  the  bayou,  with  sugar-houses  on  the 
opposite  shore,  and  cypresses  behind,  —  the  tall,  dark 
trees  that  tell  of  swamps. 

We  are  close  on  the  enemy  again.     A  strong  fort, 


THE    GARDEN   OF   LOUISIANA.  121 

in  their  hands,  is  only  seven  miles  distant;  and  yester 
day  afternoon  we  marched  to  the  sound  of  distant  firing 
from  WeitzePs  advanced  corps.  During  the  night,  too, 
the  air  was  pervaded  with  the  sublime  shiver  and  boom 
of  distant  cannonading.  I  sit  in  clover,  for  the  time 
being  :  but  every  minute  I  expect  the  drum-call ;  for 
we  are  here  only  temporarily,  in  light  order,  and 
expecting  rapid  and  severe  movements. 

We  took  up  the  line  of  march  yesterday  under  cir 
cumstances  which  I  have  several  times  described,  — 
brilliant  enough,  but  becoming  now  an  old  story ; 

though  I  own  I  am  not  so  hardened  that  I  was  not 

o 

thrilled  to  hear  a  fine,  full  band  play,  "  The  dearest 
spot  on  earth  to  me  is  home,"  followed  by  a  regiment 
stepping  strongly  to  the  air.  It  proved  to  be,  by 
all  odds,  our  hardest  march  for  me ;  although  it  was 
only  about  nine  miles.  The  sun  was  bitterly  hot,  and 
the  dust  heavy.  For  the  first  time  in  my  soldiering, 
with  a  red  face  and  blistered  feet,  I  was  obliged  to  turn 
aside  from  the  regiment,  and  stop  under  a  tree  to  throw 
away  part  of  my  load.  It  was  not,  however,  until  men 
in  whole  sections  had  been  wheeling  up,  and  stopping  by 
the  roadside  for  a  long  time  ;  so  that  I  had  a  good  part 
of  the  regiment  for  company  in  my  first  falling-out. 

I  have  now  seen  numbers  of  streams  and  much 
country,  and  am  familiar  with  the  strange  aspects  of  a 
Louisiana  landscape.  Of  course,  we  know,  that,  on 
this  globe,  water  plays  the  principal  part,  and  land  is 
secondary.  As  Northerners  know  nature,  however,  it 
is  land  that  is  most  exulting,  bounding,  as  it  does, 

6 


122  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

into  hills,  standing  kingly  in  mountains ;  while  water, 
more  humble,  hides  in  glens,  or  flows  in  submissive 
rivers  before  the  feet  of  lordly  ranges.  Here,  however, 
water  bears  itself  arrogantly,  —  floating  sometimes 
above  the  level  of  the  soil ;  sometimes  just  even  with 
it,  as  here,  where  the  ripples  of  the  brimful  stream 
threaten  the  clover-flowers,  which  are  scarcely  above 
them.  Meanwhile,  a  furlong  or  so  in  the  rear,  is  the 
swamp,  as  ever,  close  at  hand, — the  traitor  in  the 
heart,  ready  to  help  the  foe  outside.  Water  is  thus 
haughty  and  encroaching ;  while  land  is  a  poor,  cowed, 
second  -  fiddle  -  playing  creature ,  —  only  existing ,  appa 
rently,  that  water  may  have  something  to  pour  itself  out 
over  and  exhibit  itself  upon. 

Then,  too,  the  painful  sycophancy  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom  !  It  owes  its  whole  existence  and  consequence 
to  land,  if  any  thing  does ;  yet  here,  like  a  set  of  false 
hearted  flatterers,  trees  and  wreeds  go  toadying  the  ruling 
power.  The  forests  are  watery  :  old  trunks  robe  them 
selves  in  moss,  counterfeiting  the  appearance  of  dis 
colored  growths  of  coral ;  and,  along  the  brinks  of 
bayous,  stout-hearted  live-oaks  even,  that  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  themselves,  bend  almost  horizontally  over 
the  currents,  or  indeed,  sometimes,  as  in  one  case  right 
here  in  our  camp,  hold  on  by  the  roots,  and  grow 
downward  almost,  letting  the  water  flow  around  and  over 
them,  just  raising  their  tops  above  the  stream,  a  rod  or 
two  out  from  shore,  —  all  this  fawning  and  hanging-on, 
instead  of  growing  straight  up,  and  flinging  out  their 
tops  like  independent  and  self-respecting  growths  ! 


VICTORY.  123 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VICTORY. 

APRIL  13.  —  Rather  a  stirring  accompaniment  to 
your  scribbling  pencil  to  have  a  furious  cannonade  going 
on  within  two  or  three  miles,  — to  have  fresh  in  your 
memory  the  sharp  skirmish  which  took  place  on  the  very 
spot  where  you  are  seated,  only  a  few  hours-  ago  ;  and 
all  the  time  to  have  the  Second  Massachusetts  Battery 
harnessed  up  in  the  road,  with  the  men  on  the  horses 
and  seats  ;  to  know  that  when  they  whip  up  we  shall  be 
ordered  in,  and  that  our  business  will  be  to  support  this 
battery  through  thick  and  thin,  —  the  thick,  just  at  the 
present,  being  most  probable.  It  is  early  in  the  after 
noon.  The  hot  sun  beats  down  upon  us,  who  have 
stacked  our  arms  here  in  this  shadeless  cane-field,  and 
seated  ourselves  among  the  furrows.  Perhaps  we  shall 
have  time  to  eat  a  hard  tack  and  make  a  hasty  cup  of 
coffee  before  we  start. 

To-day  is  Monday.  Saturday,  we  embarked  at  Bra- 
shear  City,  leaving  a  fine,  airy,  roomy  camp  for  — 

"  Fall  in  !  " 

April  14. — This  day  I  have  seen  a  bloody  battle 
fought,  and  now  write  sitting  among  furrows  cut  up  by 


124  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  wheels  of  the  batteries.  A  little  way  to  the  right, 
in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  lie  the  unburied  dead.  There, 
too,  lie  the  castaway  guns  and  all  the  wreck  and  waste 
v:f  such  a  field.  A  few  rods  to  the  left,  the  surgeons, 
all  this  forenoon,  have  been  dressing  wounds.  The  pur 
suit  of  the  enemy  is  going  forward.  We  only  wait  the 
order  to  advance.  Occasionally  the  strong,  fresh  south 
wind  brings  to  us  the  crash  of  a  volley,  or  an  explosion 
in  the  advance.  A  huge  vapory  column  builds  itself  up 
into  the  air  ;  then  the  breeze  dissipates  the  unsubstantial 
tower  from  base  to  cornice. 

April  17.  —  I  have  to  drop  and  catch  my  pencil  as  I 
can ;  for  we  are  doing  tremendous  work.  O  people 
who  clamor  for  rapid  movements  !  if  you  only  knew 
what  forced  marches  after  a  flying  enemy  cost  us  poor 
fellows,  who  have  to  make  them  !  —  the  burden  being  so 
heavy,  the  roads  so  dusty,  and  the  noon-sun  so  burning 
hot.  It  is  Saturday  morning.  Since  Wednesday  morn 
ing,  we  have  pursued  the  flying  rebels  fifty  miles.  I 
have  just  seated  myself,  with  my  stiff  limbs  stretched 
on  the  grass,  under  the  shadow  of  a  rough  stable  belong 
ing  to  a  miserable  plantation  in  these  back  regions  of 
Louisiana.  I  only  make  this  little  note  ;  for  the  pursuit 
is  not  ended,  and  I  ought  to  use  this  respite  for  sleeping 
and  eating  rather  than  writing. 

April  21.  — As  you  see,  during  the  past  week  or  so, 
I  have  occasionally  caught  up  my  pencil  among  the 
most  tremendous  and  unspeakable  exertions,  simply  to 
record  my  whereabouts,  and  that  I  lived.  We  are  in 
camp  now  at  Opelousas,  far  toward  Texas,  in  the  back 


VICTORY.  125 

regions  of  Louisiana ;  having  pursued  the  retreating  ene 
my  seventy-five  miles.  Remember,  we  have  made  this 
distance  on  foot,  under  a  heavy  burthen.  Thank  God 
with  all  my  heart,  I  am  perfectly  well  after  the  march, 
though  I  have  been  fearfully  tired,  and  once  was  at  the 
lowest  point  of  exhaustion.  We  understand  that  we  are 
to  rest  here,  and  prepare  for  a  still  further  advance  ;  but 
our  forced  marching,  I  presume,  is  for  the  present 
over. 

I  have  now  leisure  to  go  back,  and  give  the  details  of 
this  experience  of  hardship. 

On  Saturday,  April  11,  Grover's  division  embarked 
at  Brashear  City.  Our  brigade  left  a  delightful  camp 
for  the  transport  "  St.  Mary's,"  a  beautiful  vessel,  but 
one  aboard  which  we  underwent  a  packing,  to  which  the 
stowage  aboard  the  "  Illinois  "  was  nothing,  and  which 
certainly  nothing  could  parallel  but  the  packing  of  a 
slaver.  Our  boat  carried  three  regiments,  the  horses 
and  greater  part  of  the  men  of  a  battery,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  more.  I  only  know  I  took  my  post  on 
a  little  rise  in  the  deck,  between  the  smoke-stack  and 
engine,  built  up  to  cover  the  machinery.  I  was  there 
with  about  ten  others,  and  hardly  left  it  from  that  Sat 
urday  night  until  near  noon  of  Monday  ;  not  because  I 
was  shackled  to  the  spot  exactly,  but  because  I  could 
hardly  take  a  step  without  treading  on  some  one.  By 
daytime,  we  sat  with  our  legs  curled  under  us,  under  a 
blazing  hot  sun,  under  which  we  almost  popped  out  on 
the  deck  like  kernels  of  corn  on  an  iron  plate.  By 
night,  we  tried  to  sleep,  with  the  plunging  piston  with- 


126  THE    COLOR-GUAKD. 

in  reach  of  the  hand.  I  lay  with  my  head  lower  than 
my  feet,  my  head  on  my  knapsack,  my  feet  passed  up 
over  the  shoulders  of  Grider  and  another  of  our  fellows, 
with  Callighan's  elbow  in  one  side,  and  Bivins's  head 
upon  my  breast.  How  dreary  was  Sunday  !  I  awoke 
unrefreshed.  There  was  water  all  about  us,  but  none 
to  be  had  for  washing,  and  not  much  to  drink.  Toward 
noon,  I  managed  to  buy  some  fine  oranges  of  a  cabin- 
waiter,  which  helped  my  poor  dinner  of  the  hardest 
biscuit  and  coarsest  salt  beef.  We  were  in  a  great 
strait  for  coffee,  which,  for  a  long  time,  seemed  utterly 
out  of  the  question.  At  length,  however,  Joe  Pray,  a 
"  cute  "  genius,  was  inspired.  Just  in  front  of  my  place 
rose  the  escape-pipe  of  the  steamer,  ten  or  twelve  feet 
above  the  deck  :  from  this,  hot  steam  was  constantly 
issuing.  Joe  was  seen  to  eye  this,  to  grow  thoughtful, 
then  to  pour  a  handful  of  ground  coffee  into  his  can 
teen,  partly  filled  with  water.  With  this  he  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  pipe ;  and,  after  a  few  efforts,  he  tossed 
the  canteen  clear  over  its  edge  into  the  current  of  steam, 
holding  it  by  its  long  white  string.  It  was  an  entire 
success.  Joe  withdrew  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  canteen 
full  of  hot,  well-steeped  drink.  As  he  squeezed  his 
way  back  to  his  place,  there  was  a  crowd  to  profit  by 
his  experiment.  The  old  pipe  puffed  away,  and  many 
were  the  coffee-makers  who  invoked  blessings  upon  the 
head  of  Joe  Pray. 

Night  came  again,  and  I  slept  as  before,  with  men 
crowding  everywhere  ;  and,  beneath  me,  four  or  five  mus 
kets  not  covered  over.  I  got  up  in  the  morning  tattooed 


VICTORY.  127 

like  a  Carib,  where  the  steel  projections  of  the  muskets 
had  pressed  into  my  back  and  legs. 

Meantime  the  sail  was  monotonous  and  uninteresting. 
We  ploughed  along,  stirring  into  waves  the  sallow  tor 
por  of  the  bayou,  —  the  low  shores  on  either  hand 
walled  up  with  the  massive  vegetation  of  the  climate. 
At  length,  we  emerged  into  a  broad  lake,  the  "  Grand 
Lake,"  environed  by  what  seemed  to  us  only  wilderness. 
The  grim,  battered  old  gunboat  that  bossed  the  expedi 
tion  went  ahead  with  cannon  run  out,  examining  nar 
rowly  each  point  for  masked  batteries. 

At  last,  it  was  Monday  morning.  When  the  fog 
lifted,  a  regiment  or  two  were  put  ashore  from  the  fleet, 
and  found  a  body  of  rebels  on  hand  to  oppose  the  land 
ing  in  a  sharp  skirmish.  "  Bang  !  "  went  a  field-piece 
on  shore,  which  brought  us  all  to  our  feet.  Then  fol 
lowed  a  roll  of  musketry  ;  then  presently,  with  a  heavier 
boom,  the  gunboat  put  in  its  word,  — a  puff  of  smoke 
ascending  quickly  from  its  rusty  ports  ;  then  the  crash 
of  the  explosion,  —  a  long  whistle  from  the  flying  shell, 
—  presently  a  jet  of  fire  against  the  dark  thickets  on 
shore ;  and,  in  a  minute  or  two,  the  sound  of  the  burst 
ing  coming  faintly  to  us  from  afar.  A  planter's  mansion, 
with  sugar-house  and  negro-cabins,  stood  on  the  shore ; 
behind  which  buildings  we  could  see  columns  of  men  in 
motion,  under  the  white  smoke  of  the  skirmish,  which 
now  rose  to  the  tall  tree-tops.  The  grim  gunboat,  the 
"  Clifton,"  guided  by  signal-flags  on  shore,  sent  out, 
now  a  solitary  puff,  now  three  or  four  nearly  together ; 
while,  in  the  pauses  between  these  heavier  firings,  came 


128  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

- 

from  the  shore  the  fainter  fusillade,  linking  the  peals 
into  an  uninterrupted  concert.  At  length,  it  ceased. 
The  enemy  retired,  and  we  had  opportunity  to  land. 

We  inarched  back  from  the  river  into  the  cane-field, 
where  I  had  time  to  write  a  line  or  two  in  my  journal. 
A  few  regiments  and  batteries  pushed  ahead  at  once ; 
but  we  remained  long  enough  to  have  pailfuls  of  coffee 
made  and  passed  from  man  to  man,  — delicious  enough 
under  the  circumstances.  Under  the  roof  of  the  sugar- 
house,  Gen.  Grover  walked  to  and  fro  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  and  head  bent  forward  in  anxious  thought. 
Two  rebel  prisoners  were  under  guard  close  by ;  and, 
from  the  vessels,  horses  and  stores  were  being  landed 
in  all  haste.  It  was  a  critical  moment.  We  had  come 
upon  the  rebels  unexpectedly,  and  the  general  meant  to 
profit  by  the  surprise.  One  of  the  transports,  however, 
with  a  brigade  aboard,  which  could  not  be  spared,  was 
hard  aground  a  league  back  in  the  lake.  After  some 
delay,  however,  it  was  afloat  again,  and  came  up. 

In  the  early  afternoon,  we  were  on  the  march.  We 
plunged  into  a  tall  forest,  where  there  was  a  dense 
undergrowth  of  canes ;  the  under  and  upper  growth 
striking  hands  together  to  keep  the  sun  out,  and  have 
the  road  underneath  a  perpetual  quagmire.  The  road 
was  heavy,  and  cut  deep  with  artillery- wheels,  through 
whose  ruts  we  waded  and  jumped,  with  every  now  and 
then  the  sound  of  cannon  (to  stimulate  us)  from  the 
advance.  To  the  wood,  a  broad  open  space  succeeded, 
on  which  were  drawn  up  the  regiments  thrown  forward 
in  the  morning.  Here  signs  of  strife  appeared,  —  two 


VICTORY.  129 

wounded  cavalry-men  ;  one  hurt  in  the  leg,  the  other 
more  dangerously  wounded,  muffled  in  his  blanket  upon 
a  stretcher.  We  could  look  forward  now  a  mile  or 
two  ;  and,  when  the  reports  came  back,  could  see  before 
hand  the  white  smoke  of  the  discharge.  "We  thought 
we  had  come  into  a  savage  region,  so  wilderness-like 
had  been  the  shores  of  the  bayou  and  the  lake  ;  but,  once 
through  the  belt  of  woods,  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
smiling  land  again.  Presently  we  struck  the  Teche,  — 
here  not  more  than  fifty  yards  broad,  —  flowing  between 
banks,  that,  for  a  delightful  wonder,  sloped  down  from 
higher  land  on  each  side  to  the  surface  of  the  stream,  — 
banks,  with  clumps  and  groves  of  trees,  with  sugar- 
houses  to  be  seen  here  and  there  in  the  distance,  and 
handsome  mansions. 

We  were  passing  on  in  the  direction  of  the  firing, 
which  gradually  advanced  as  we  pushed  forward ;  not 
so  fast,  however,  as  to  prevent  our  gaining  upon  it. 
At  length  we  crossed  the  Teche  by  a  bridge  which  had 
its  timbers  charred  in  several  places.  The  advance 
found  it  in  flames,  and  just  saved  it.  The  embers  were 
hardly  cold.  Companies  of  the  Fifty-second  now  de 
ployed  as  skirmishers.  A  section  of  the  Second  Mas 
sachusetts  Battery  went  out  across  a  field,  under  charge 
of  a  straight,  finely  riding  lieutenant ;  and  presently  they 
were  at  it,  throwing  shells  into  clumps  of  trees  where 
there  were  suspicious  signs.  The  skirmishers  opened  out 
into  a  long  line,  with  intervals  of  two  or  thrjee  yards 
between  the  men  ;  then  advanced  cautiously  toward  the 
buildings  and  fences.  As  the  colonel  galloped  by,  — 


130  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

"  I  have  one  man  wounded,"  said  the  captain  of  the 
company  behind  the  colors.  "A  shot  just  grazed  his 
arm." 

We  were  close  upon  them,  and  came  to  a  halt.  It 
was  nearly  nightfall,  and  we  could  not  advance  in  the 
darkness.  Over  the  fence,  in  front  of  our  line,  twenty 
rods  or  so,  was  our  line  of  skirmishers ;  and  beyond 
them,  in  the  gathering  dusk,  across  the  wide  plain  we 
strained  our  eyes  to  see  the  little  moving  spots, — the 
pickets  of  the  enemy.  A  squad  of  rebel  prisoners  went 
by  us,  just  taken,  under  convoy  of  cavalry.  They  were 
stout,  well-fed  men,  —  some  in  the  butter-nut  dress, 
some  in  gray.  Their  clothing  looked  serviceable*  and 
was  in  as  good  condition  as  the  clothing  of  soldiers  is 
likely  to  be  during  a  hard  campaign. 

Here  is  something  even  more  interesting.  A  short 
distance  behind  us,  we  noticed  a  very  handsome  plan 
tation  and  mansion,  down  the  road  from  which  comes 
now,  in  haste  and  in  much  agitation,  a  stately  lady. 
She  is  a  matron  of  fine  bearing,  elegantly  attired.  Her 
face  is  full  of  character ;  she  is  bareheaded ;  in  age , 
perhaps  forty-five  or  fifty,  but  with  hair  still  jet-black 
and  abundant.  She  sweeps  by  us  hastily,  with  the 
majesty  of  a  noble  mother  of  Rome,  and  stops  at  the 
stirrup  of  Gen.  Grover,  who  has  halted  at  the  cross 
roads,  just  beyond  where  I  am  standing.  She  has 
come  to  intercede  with  the  general  for  her  son,  who  has 
just  been  taken  prisoner,  —  a  fine,  fierce  boy  of  nine 
teen  or  twenty,  who  stands,  haughty  and  tall,  close 
by,  among  a  group  of  captive  rebels. 


VICTORY.  131 

"Do  let  him  go,  general:  he  is  all  I  have!"  (re 
peated  again  and  again.) 

Most  earnest  and  stately  intercession  !  But  the  boy 
has  been  taken  in  arms ;  and  the  general,  I  believe, 
refused  to  listen.  The  negroes  say  this  matron  owns 
two  miles  square  of  country  here,  and  four  hundred 
slaves. 

We  camp,  as  we  often  do,  in  a  ploughed  field.  We 
are  sadly  in  want  of  sleep  ;  for,  during  the  two  previous 
nights,  we  have  had  almost  none.  We  do  not  stop  to 
pitch  tents,  but  lie  down  on  the  furrows,  trying  to  make 
provision  against  the  impending  rain.  Down  it  comes 
at  midnight,  then  at  intervals  until  morning.  Mean 
time,  the  wind  blows  fresh,  and  the  rubber-blankets  go 
flying  off  from  us  into  the  mud,  leaving  the  water  to 
pelt  us  as  it  chooses ;  another  tough  and  almost  sleep 
less  night.  Our  equipments,  of  course,  are  all  on,  and 
our  loaded  guns  at  our  sides,  to  guard  against  a  night 
surprise.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  wet  and  un- 
refreshed,  we  are  on  our  feet  again.  There-  is  no  time 
for  making  coffee ;  we  are  ordered  into  line  at  once, 
and  march  forthwith  into  fearful  scenes. 

It  appears  now,  that,  when  we  landed  from  the  trans 
ports,  we  were  not  many  miles  from  a  strong  force  of 
rebels  posted  near  Franklin,  which  force  Grover's  divi 
sion  was  to  assail  on  the  flank  or  rear.  Banks,  with 
the  main  body  of  the  army,  had  advanced  up  the  Teche 
toward  the  same  point,  had  driven  back  the  rebels  in  our 
direction,  and  now  the  two  Union  armies  were  about  to 
effect  a  junction ;  not,  however,  without  sacrifice. 


132  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Day  broke,  as  we  marched  out  into  the  road,  —  a 
listless,  half-exhausted  body  of  men.  During  the  three 
previous  nights  we  had  had  little  sleep,  and  but  little 
food  since  the  Saturday  before.  It  was  now  Tuesday. 
We  were  all  more  or  less  drenched  with  the  rain,  and 
the  blankets  and  clothing  weighed  double  with  the 
moisture.  As  the  sun  came  up,  however,  and  the 
morning  damps  steamed  off,  we  felt  better,  and  had 
our  senses  open  a  little  to  the  beauty  of  the  road,  the 
sweetness  of  the  blossoms,  and  the  verdure  of  the 
slopes. 

Presently  we  hear  the  sound  of  firing. 

"  They  have  found  them  again,"  I  say  to  the  color- 
sergeant  ;  and  we  look  off  over  the  woods  to  where  the 
white  cloud  of  the  discharge  can  be  seen  rising  among 
the  trees.  As  we  sweep  along  the  road  toward  the 
firing,  the  day  each  minute  becomes  more  and  more 
beautiful.  Each  minute,  too,  the  roar  of  cannon  is  more 
frequent,  and  becomes  mingled  at  last  with  sharp,  rat 
tling  volleys  of  small-arms. 

We  come,  at  last,  into  full  view  of  the  scene.  We 
halt  in  the  road ;  and  leaning  against  a  fence,  looking 
southward  through  the  rails,  the  whole  combat  is  visible 
to  us,  who  are  now  within  cannon-range.  We  look 
down  a  gentle  slope.  To  the  left  we  can  see  a  battery 
posted,  which  fires  very  vigorously ;  then  bodies  of 
infantry,  in  long,  dark  lines,  moving  upon  an  open 
field  in  front  of  a  wood.  In  the  lines  are  gaps,  which 
may  be  caused  by  moving  over  rough  ground,  or  by 
the  plunge  of  shot  and  shell.  To  the  right,  again,  we 


VICTORY.  133 

can  see  bodies  of  troops,  and  batteries.  Hear  that  long 
crash  of  musketry  !  each  individual  discharge  so  blending 
into  the  others,  that  we  can  only  hear  one  long  sound, 
like  the  slow  fall  of  some  huge  tower.  It  is  a  rebel 
volley,  terribly  effective,  as  we  afterward  hear ;  and, 
while  the  wind  bears  it  to  us,  we  are  ordered  forward, 
and  presently  are  on  the  very  field. 

Ambulance-men,  with  stretchers,  are  hurrying  across 
the  field  to  a  sugar-house  in  the  rear,  where  a  hospital 
is  established.  On  each  stretcher  is  a  wounded  man, 
and  the  number  of  these  makes  it  certain  to  us  that  the 
engagement  has  reached  the  sad  dignity  of  a  pitched 
battle.  We  are  passing  ammunition  wagons  now; 
now*  a  tree,  beneath  which  is  a  surgeon  at  work  ;  and, 
close  where  he  stands,  on  his  back,  stiff  and  stark,  dead, 
a  tall,  broad-chested  man,  with  closed  eyes.  The  col 
umn  files  to  the  right,  out  of  the  road ;  and  we  stand  in 
line  of  battle  just  in  the  rear  of  the  action,  within  rifle- 
range  of  the  .woods  where  the  enemy  lie  concealed, 
expecting  every  moment  the  order  to  advance.  The 
firing,  however,  slackens  ;  and  presently  word  comes 
that  the  enemy  are  withdrawing. 

Between  the  color-company  and  the  next  company, 
through  the  centre  of  our  line,  runs  the  cart-track  down 
into  the  field,  along  which  now  is  constantly  passing  a 
stream  of  wounded  men,  on  stretchers,  or  supported  by 
comrades,  and  lines  of  rebel  prisoners.  I  am  close 
by,  and  can  hear  the  talk  of  a  sergeant,  bloody,  but 
able  to  walk,  who  is  glad  he  has  had  a  chance  to  do 
some  service.  I  look,  too,  upon  the  ghastly  head  of  a 


134  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

young  lieutenant,  who  is  dying  upon  his  stretcher,  and 
upon  many  others.  Prisoners  come  by  in  squads,  — 
sometimes  five  or  six,  sometimes  twenty  or  thirty  ;  some 
in  gray,  some  in  blue,  some  in  faded  brown.  Once  in 
a  while,  there  is  an  intelligent,  good-looking  face  ;  more 
often  the  features  are  unintelligent, — the  brutish  face 
of  that  deteriorating  class,  the  white  trash.  Thus  we 
stand  close  at  hand  to  suffering  and  death. 

The  pursuit  is  being  continued  down  the  road.  Hours 
pass,  and  we  still  remain  in  line.  We  cook,  eat,  and 
sleep.  I  get  out  my  portfolio,  and  write  a  little.  In 
the  course  of  the  day,  up  into  the  blue,  calm  sky  go 
mighty  columns  of  smoke,  with  deep  reports,  —  the 
explosions  of  rebel  gunboats  and  transports,  overtaken 
in  the  Teche  by  the  victorious  army,  and  blown  up  by 
their  crews  as  they  flee.  Within  half  a  dozen  rods  of 
our  line  is  a  field-hospital,  where  lie,  of  one  New- York 
regiment,  the  wounded  colonel,  the  dead  lieutenant-colo 
nel,  adjutant,  and  other  officers  and  men.  Of  other 
regiments,  too,  are  many  wounded,  federal  and  rebel, 
—  some  dying  under  the  surgeon's  hands.  I  go  over 
and  see  the  writhing  wounded,  and  the  hospital  attend 
ants  laying  out  the  dead.  An  Irish  private  lies  close  by 
the  straight  young  adjutant,  whose  face  is  reverently 
covered ;  and  not  far  off  is  a  rebel,  covered  thick  with 
his  own  gore.  Before  death  go  down  all  distinctions 
and  animosities. 

Does  it  not  seem,  when  the  experiences  are  so  out  of 
the  common  course  and  so  dreadful,  as  if  there  ought 
to  be  some  change  in  outward  circumstances  to  make 


VICTORY.  135 

them  correspond  ?  But  no  :  it  was  a  perfect  summer 
day,  —  an  almost  cloudless  sky,  with  a  cool,  sweet  wind 
coming  from  the  woods  where  the  rebels  had  been  hid 
den  ;  the  woods  green  and  fresh  and  innocent,  as  if 
they  were  only  a  haunt  for  fairies. 

Toward  night,  I  go  down  the  cart-path  to  the  actual 
field,  and  see  the  broken  muskets,  the  scattered  knap 
sacks  and  clothing,  the  furrows  where  the  enemy  lay, 
the  bloody  pools  where  the  dying  fainted,  the  burial 
parties,  and  the  piles  of  distorted  corpses  lying  by  the 
trenches  just  dug  to  receive  them.  I  have  wished,  that, 
so  long  as  Ed.  was  to  die,  he  might  have  met  his  death 
in  the  front  of  battle,  with  a  manly  shout  upon  his  lips, 
and  the  light  and  ardors  of  the  conflict  shining  forth 
upon  his  face :  but  it  is  more  dreadful  than  I  had  be 
lieved  ;  and  now  I  thank  God  that  we  could  lay  his  fair 
young  body  in  the  grave,  undesecrated, — with  the  limbs 
unbroken,  with  no  gash  upon  his  youthful  brow,  nor 
gory  stain  upon  his  noble  breast. 

They  say  we  lost  in  the  neighborhood  of  four  hun 
dred.  Only  one  brigade  was  engaged.  It  was  a  bloody 
strife. 


136  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PURSUIT. 

As  the  shadows  grew  long,  we  were  ordered  into  line 
again.  I  had  just  returned  from  the  edge  of  the  woods 
where  the  conflict  had  been  severest,  and  the  dead  were 
being  buried.  I  cast  a  farewell  glance  at  the  fence, 
along  the  rails  of  which  the  rebels  had  rested  their 
pieces  in  the  morning  ;  at  the  dense  trunks  filled  in  with 
broad  palms  and  thick  standing  canes  that  had  been 
their  cover ;  at  the  group  burying  the  dead,  a  rebel 
prisoner  standing  at  the  elbow  of  the  sergeant  in  charge, 
giving  him  the  names  of  a  pile  of  the  enemy  about 
to  be  interred ;  then  we  marched  off.  As  we  passed 
the  sugar-house,  amputations  and  other  severe  surgical 
operations  were  being  performed.  We  went  only  a 
short  distance,  then  encamped  in  a  broad  field  sloping 
down  to  the  Teche.  Permission  was  given  to  get  from 
the  neighboring  plantations  what  was  needed  in  the  way 
of  food ;  and,  after  an  exciting  day,  the  regiment  was 
SQon  at  rest,  —  rest  we  had  earned  by  the  hardships  of 
the  three  or  four  previous  nights,  and  which  was  invalua 
ble  to  us  as  we  came  to  undergo  the  privations  and 
labors  of  the  following  days. 


PURSUIT.  137 

The  camp  was  early  astir  on  Wednesday.  "We 
bathed  in  the  Teche,  and  watched  the  "  Clifton,"  our 
old,  grim  friend,  which  came  steaming  up ;  the  coast 
being  now  clear  for  her  through  the  explosions  of  the 
day  before.  As  soon  as  she  had  passed,  it  was  time  for 
us  to  go  ;  for  word  spread  that  the  rebels  were  retreat 
ing  into  the  interior,  that  we  were  to  follow  them  at 
once,  and  that  this  gunboat  in  the  bayou,  which  gene 
rally  flows  near  the  road,  was  to  guard  the  flank  of  the 
pursuing  column. 

The  march  was  most  fatiguing ;  though  in  a  proper 
conveyance,  that  glorious  day,  the  road  would  have 
been  very  fine.  Through  some  mistake,  we  had  re 
tained  our  knapsacks,  and  so  were  in  heavy  order, 
although  the  army  in  general  only  carried  the  lightest 
possible  load.  We  passed  the  mansion  of  the  stately 
lady  who  pleaded  for  her  son,  where,  a  few  days  before, 
it  was  said,  the  Confederate  generals  had  been  enter 
tained  at  a  splendid  ball.  The  road  here  was  bordered 
by  a  hedge  of  orange-trees,  whose  fruit  the  soldiers 
could  pick  as  they  passed.  We  saw  signs  everywhere 
along  the  road  of  great  wealth.  The  country  of  the 
Teche,  like  that  of  the  La  Fourche,  is  a  garden  region ; 
fine  plantations  succeeding  each  other  continually  ;  the 
sugar-houses  looming  large  back  on  the  estates  ;  the  ne 
groes  gathering  upon  the  fences  and  gates  by  the  road 
side,  of  all  shades,  of  all  degrees  of  ugliness  and 
beauty.  Sometimes  a  hedge  bordered  the  road,  —  of 
heavy,  opulent  foliage ;  sometimes  rich  fields  spread 
away  beyond  the  fences  ;  sometimes  the  bayou  opened  a 


138  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

few  rods  away,  the  current  flowing  between  the  sloping 
oak-dotted  banks.  When  the  bayou  was  concealed,  we 
could  often  hear  the  regular  clank  of  the  "  Clifton's  " 
machinery,  steadily  keeping  pace  with  us,  as  we 
plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  heart  of  Rebeldom. 

We  came  to  a  spot  where  the  negroes  say  the  rebels 
meant  to  make  a  stand,  — then  thought  better  of  it. 
We  imagined  the  sallow,  haggard  hosts  waiting  in 
their  butternut-coats  behind  the  fences ;  then  panting 
forward  again,  as  the  hoof-beats  of  the  Federal  cavalry 
came  within  hearing.  The  day  grew  burning  hot. 
We  marched  rapidly  on,  stopping  occasionally  to  catch 
our  breath.  Under  every  tree  lay  a  group  of  panting 
men.  It  was  a  forced  march.  Gen.  Banks  knows 
every  commander  has  been  censured  for  not  following 
up  successes  ;  and  now  the  successes  were  to  be  followed 
up.  Right  that  it  should  be  so !  Honor  to  our 
leader's  energy  !  But,  you  people  who  clamor  for  rapid 
movements,  how  little  do  you  know  what  these  things 
cost  the  poor  infantry-soldier !  This  day  I  felt  well, 
and  marched  with  the  best ;  though,  when  it  grew  to  be 
late  afternoon,  there  was  something  cruel  about  the 
steadfastness  with  which  the  blue-and-white  brigade-flag 
kept  the  road  in  advance.  It  was  long  before  we  saw 
it  waver,  then  turn  into  a  field  to  the  right,  where  was 
to  be  our  bivouac.  We  accomplished,  that  day,  twenty- 
five  miles,  by  universal  agreement;  marching  from 
seven  in  the  morning  until  near  sunset,  with  an  occa 
sional  rest  of  from  two  to  fifteen  minutes. 

The  trouble  is,  that,  when  the  halt  comes,  you  can- 


PURSUIT.  139 

not  begin  your  rest  for  a  long  time.  First,  wood  must 
be  got.  The  load  must  be  unslung  from  the  back  and 
waist ;  then,  no  matter  how  weary  you  may  be,  your 
only  chance  is  to  run  at  full  speed,  with  the  rest,  to  the 
fence  designated  to  be  used  for  fuel.  Then  there  is  a 
tug  for  that ;  in  which  your  temper  must  be  chained  to 
you,  if  it  is  not  lost.  Then  the  tent  must  be  pitched  ; 
fresh  water  got ;  rations  drawn ;  supper  cooked ;  and 
perhaps,  as  happened  to  me  this  day,  you  have  to  sit  up 
till  midnight  to  get  the  company's  share  of  the  beef 
that  is  being  killed  during  the  evening. 

During  the  night,  the  enemy  fled  again ;  and  early  in 
the  morning  we  were  in  pursuit.  The  road  was  still 
beautiful;  the  plantations,  as  before,  rich  with  sugar- 
houses,  gardens,  and  well-filled  poultry-yards,  which 
stragglers  and  negroes,  who  follow  the  army  in  hun 
dreds,  made  free  with.  The  heat  became  most  oppres 
sive.  I  have  never  found  marching  so  difficult.  Men, 
by  platoons  almost,  exhausted  by  the  rapid  walk  of  the 
regiment,  were  turning  in  under  hedge  and  bush. 
Some,  too,  not  exhausted,  put  on  the  pretence  of  it, 
and  fell  behind,  only  to  have  opportunity  to  pillage  when 
the  army  had  passed.  I  was  determined  to  stand  it 
while  I  could  :  but  hotter^rew  the  sun  ;  the  dust  filled 
the  stifling  air;  the  rests  seemed  infrequent.  I  was 
at  the  last  point  of  exhaustion.  I  turned  aside  under  a 
clump  of  bushes,  and  had  just  time  to  fling  open  my 
belts  and  straps,  when  my  brain  swam.  I  reeled,  and 
had  just  consciousness  enough  to  direct  my  fall  so  as 
to  have  my  knapsack  for  a  pillow  ;  then  down  I  went, 


140  THE    COLOK-GUARD. 

—  every  pore  a  fountain,  —  completely  used  up.     I  lay 
in  a  stupor  thus,  — half  conscious,  half  fainting  by  the 
roadside,  in  the  shade,  —  while  within  a  few  feet  rolled 
and  rumbled  onward  the  advancing  and  victorious  army. 
Now  the  tramp  of  infantry ;  now  the  sound  of  battery- 
wheels  ;  now  the  white-covered  wagons.     "Yah  moole  ! " 

—  I  heard  the  darkey-drivers  say  to  their  mules,  —  "I 
knows  you's  tired  an'  weak."    But  there  was  no  rest  for 
man  or  beast.     On  they  went,  while  I,  lying  there,  half 
gave  my  mind  to  the  passing  host,  half  dreamt  of  sweet 
places,  — home,  and  my  cool,  quiet  study,  far  away. 

Oh  !  well,  it  was  soon  over ;  and  one  ought  to  be 
willing  to  march,  even  till  he  faints,  to  make  a  victory 
gained  in  this  cause  more  decisive.  At  length,  mem 
bers  of  the  regiment  began  to  come  up,  —  farmers  and 
farmers'  boys.  These  sat  down  in  my  nook  to  "vow" 
and  "vum"and  "van,"  in  the  most  solemn  manner, 
that  no  hay-field  or  harvest  experience  ever  came  near 
this.  So  we  rested.  A  negro  came  by  with  chickens 
and  ducks  slung  on  a  pole.  I  got  a  duck  from  him ; 
then,  from  another,  I  got  a  handful  of  onions  to  flavor 
the  stew.  Then  we  went  leisurely  forward,  and  soon 
were  in  the  pleasant  street  of  New  Iberia ;  by  the  side 
of  which,  opposite  a  stately  mansion,  we  found  the 
regiment  again. 

Not  far  from  here  is  a  salt-mine ;  and  a  portion  of 
our  brigade  was  detached  at  once,  and  sent  to  destroy 
the  works.  Meantime,  we  picked  my  duck,  under  the 
thick  shade  that  bordered  the  Teche ;  then  bathed  in 
the  dark,  smooth  stream,  among  the  empty  whiskey- 


PURSUIT.  141 

barrels,  which  the  rebels,  only  a  few  hours  before,  had 
staved  by  the  score,  and  emptied  into  the  water. 

We  supposed  we  were  to  halt  for  a  day  or  two  in  this 
pretty  village ;  but  the  enemy  fled  fast :  so  the  next 
morning,  early,  we  set  out  on  another  tedious  march, 
—  the  order  to  "fall  in"  coming  so  suddenly,  that  we 
had  no  time  to  make  coffee  or  take  any  breakfast. 
The  drums  beat  as  we  went  with  conquering  flags  down 
the  village  street, — past  the  few  rich  mansions  ;  past 
the  Union  Hospital  (for  we  leave  a  hospital  full  of  sick 
and  worn-out  men  wherever  we  stop)  ;  past  the  hospi 
tal  the  rebels  left  behind  them,  with  a  pink  flag  at  the 
gate ;  past  Capt.  Morton  and  the  four  companies  of  the 
Fifty-second,  which  we  left  behind  as  provost-guard. 
Soon  we  were  beyond  the  village ;  and,  after  a  mile  or 
two,  came  to  a  turn  in  the  road,  where  the  advance,  a 
little  while  before,  had  had  a  sharp  skirmish.  Six  or 
seven  dead  horses  lay  in  the  road :  one  poor  fellow,  in 
butternut,  lay  stretched  on  the  sod,  —  the  morning 
light,  bright  and  unpitying,  on  his  dead,  uncovered 
face.  Five  or  six  more  were  in  a  gully  close  by. 
There  had  been  no  time  yet  to  bury  them.  We,  the 
living,  had  not  even  time  to  eat ;  and  were  sweeping 
onward,  without  food,  in  our  pursuit.  We  halted  a 
few  moments  in  front  of  a  plantation.  Toussaint,  a 
monkey-faced  negro  attached  to  Company  D,  came  out 
with  a  basket  full  of  elegant  tapers ;  and  soldiers,  who 
left  the  ranks  to  fill  their  canteens.,  brought  out  word 
of  the  splendor  of  the  furniture,  and  the  pillage  it  had 
undergone. 


142  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

The  character  of  the  country  changed  soon  after. 
We  found  no-  longer  rich  plantations,  but  came  into  a 
region  broad  and  prairie-like,  where,  on  the  far-stretch 
ing  plains,  were  feeding  vast  herds  of  cattle.  The 
broad  pastures  of  Texas,  now,  were  not  very  remote ; 
and  this  region  must  resemble  the  land  of  the  ranch  and 
lasso.  The  habitations  became  fewer,  and  of  a  much 
poorer  character.  We  had  no  longer  the  bayou  to  run 
to  for  water ;  and  could  only  fill  our  canteens  at  stag 
nant  slimy  pools,  or  stand  and  fight,  at  the  few  wells 
we  came  to,  by  the  half-hour,  for  a  drink,  while  the 
army  hurried  on.  It  was  dreadfully  tedious  and  hot. 
We  marched,  by  the  hour  together,  over  the  flat,  dusty 
plains,  under  the  burning  sun.  How  intolerable  it 
was  !  It  was  noon  ;  but  we  were  still  without  breakfast. 
The  cartridge-box  on  one  side,  and  haversack  on  the 
other,  pulled  very  heavily ;  and  gun  and  blankets 
doubled  their  weight. 

It  is  now  two  o'clock,  and  we  have  sweltered  and 
hobbled  on  some  fourteen  miles.  I  am  sadly  footsore 
at  last ;  though,  until  now,  I  have  had  no  trouble.  I  do 
not  want  to  do  myself  permanent  injury,  nor  bring 
on  premature  age  and  breaking-down ;  which  I  fear 
I  shall  do,  if  I  make  a  regular  thing  of  marching  until  I 
faint.  "  Mr.  Grosvenor,  will  you  fall  out  if  I  will  ?  " 
Grosvenor  is  sick  and  weary,  —  not  yet  fully  recovered 
from  his  fever  in  the  winter,  and  only  borne  up  by  a 
most  unconquerable  spirit.  He  is  more  nearly  spent 
than  I  am,  and  assents.  We  have  half  the  regiment 
for  company,  strewn  along  the  whole  line  of  our  march. 


PURSUIT.  143 

Pat  O'Toole  remarked  the  other  night,  referring  to  me, 
"  Och  !  the  cor-r-piral,  shure,  is  tougher  than  a  biled 
owl !  "  I  shall  lose  such  commendations  in  future,  I 
fear. 

Now  that  we  have  stopped,  and  left  the  dust  and 
crowd  of  the  column,  the  breeze  blows  cool.  We  lie 
and  sleep  under  a  little  clump  of  trees  for  an  hour  or 
two,  then  make  coffee  in  my  boiler, — my  dirty  but 
invaluable  utensil.  I  happen  to  have  part  of  a  fine 
chicken  and  some  raw  salt  pork  in  my  haversack. 
We  find  some  onions  in  a  garden  near.  At  a  poor 
house,  close  by,  we  fill  our  canteens  at  a  well,  among 
a  struggling  crowd  of  worn-out  soldiers.  The  master, 
poor  man  !  has  lost  almost  every  thing.  We  pity  him 
and  his  little  children,  —  all  they  have  a  prey  to  this 
thirsting  and  hungry  soldiery.  Grosvenor  and  I  build 
our  fire  by  ourselves,  and  presently  we  have  a  delicious 
soup  bubbling.  Grosvenor  has  salt  and  pepper  ;  and, 
at  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  we  have  a  grand  dinner, 
steaming  hot,  —  the  first  meal  we  have  eaten  during  the 
day. 

Sunset  is  not  far  off  when  we  finish.  We  are  now 
in  better  condition  to  move  again,  after  our  meal  and 
sleep,  though  Grosvenor  is  really  too  sick  and  weak  to 
stir.  Two  men,  of  a  Maine  regiment,  come  by  with  a 
handcart  they  have  "  confiscated."  We  get  permission 
to  throw  in  our  burdens,  if  we  will  help  draw  the  cart. 
In  this  way  we  pull  and  push  forward  a  mile  or  two, 
our  blistered  feet  making  us  limp  at  every  step.  Then 
we  come  to  a  wide  plain,  where  the  road  is  swallowed 


144  TIIE    COLOR-GUARD. 

up  ;  and  every  trace  of  the  army  disappears.  I  am  for 
pushing  on  during  the  twilight,  which  is  now  falling, 
though  we  run  the  risk  of  being  lost ;  but  Grosvenor  is 
too  ill.  The  Maine  men  are  worn  out ;  and  the  vote  is, 
to  stay  until  the  next  morning  in  a  deserted  house  used 
to  store  cotton.  We  spread  the  cotton  on  the  floor  for 
a  bed.  During  the  evening,  other  stragglers  arrive,  — 
Billy  Wilson's  men,  Irishmen,  negroes,  —  so  that,  by 
dark,  the  little  house  is  full.  One  fellow  has  stolen  a 
fiddle,  on  whose  broken  strings  he  manages  to  scrape 
out  tunes.  We  listen  to  the  fiddle  a  while,  and  wonder 
where  the  army  is ;  but  sleep  comes  very  soon. 

Next  morning,  we  felt  sure  we  had  not  far  to  go. 
We  went  two  or  three  miles  over  the  plain,  guessing  at 
the  direction  ;  and  at  length  struck  a  road,  along  which 
it  was  plain  an  army  had  passed.  Grosvenor  fell  by 
the  roadside,  too  ill  to  go  farther ;  while  I  set  off  to 
find  water.  I  could  find  nothing  but  filthy  pools  of 
stagnant  water,  in  which  swine  wrere  wallowing,  and  into 
which  bull-frogs  large  as  chickens  went  floundering  as 
I  came  up.  The  circumstances  were  forlorn  enough 
for  a  sick  man.  At  length,  a  train  of  battery-wagons 
passed.  We  "cheeked"  it  with  a  negro-driver,  and 
jumped  in  over  the  tail-board  of  a  forage-wagon,  where 
we  rode  until  we  were  ignominiously  expelled  by  a  ser 
geant.  We  had,  however,  reached  the  headquarters 
of  Paine's  brigade,  Emory's  division ;  and  learned  that 
Grover  was  just  ahead,  in  the  advance. 

We  managed  to  get  hold  of  some  beef  and  a  spider, 
and  cook  a  breakfast ;  Gen.  Paine,  in  his  spectacles, 


PURSUIT.  145 

writing  on  the  porch  of  a  house  close  by.  Then  we 
tried  to  go  forward  again ;  but  Grosvenor  dropped  after 
a  few  rods.  I  left  him  under  a  tree,  and  rushed  back 
along  the  road  to  an  approaching  cart :  "  A  sick  ser 
geant  ;  cannot  walk  ;  must  join  the  regiment ;  will  not 
take  '  No '  for  an  answer."  So  at  last  they  took  us  both 
in.  They  were  three  soldiers  of  the  One-hundred-and- 
fourteenth  New- York,  who  had  confiscated  a  good 
horse  and  a  two-wheeled  cart.  They  turned  out  to  be 
good  fellows  ;  and  now  we  got  forward  rapidly. 

Gen.  Banks  and  his  staff  went  by  us  from  the  front. 
They  all  eyed  us  sTiarply,  and  we  feared  they  had  de 
signs  on  our  horse.  The  New- York  men  had  had 
hard  work  to  keep  it  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  cavalry  ; 
but  this  danger  was  passed  like  the  previous  ones.  I 
watched  the  general's  cool,  resolute  face,  for  signs  of 
exultation.  He  had  beaten  the  enemy  in  three  battles  ; 
was  driving  them  pell-mell  before  him,  and  possessing 
himself  of  a  vast  region  of  country  full  of  wealth 
of  every  kind.  I  remembered  Napier's  description  of 
Wellington  after  the  battle  of  Salamanca,  and  looked 
to  see  a  similar  light  on  the  countenance  of  our  leader. 
He  looked  happy,  certainly,  and  like  a  conqueror ; 
though  he  was  dirty  and  imbrowned,  like  the  rest  of 
us. 

Soon  after  this,  we  halted  in  a  grove,  where  were  a 
large  number  of  rebel  prisoners  under  guard.  Our 
companions  cooked  dinner,  and  I  got  out  my  portfolio. 
Sweat  and  rain  had  penetrated  the  pasteboard,  and 
my  little  stock  of  paper  was  damp  and  discolored.  I 

7 


146  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

managed  to  write  a  few  legible  lines.  From  here  it 
was  only  about  a  mile  to  the  camp  of  the  regiment, 
which  had  marched  eighteen  miles  the  day  before. 
They  were  in  a  grove,  on  the  Bayou  Yermilion.  So 
close  were  they  the  night  before  to  the  flying  remnant 
of  the  rebel  column,  that  the  bridge  here  was  still  in 
flames,  just  becoming  impassable.  As  they  stacked 
arms,  a  huge  round  shot  came  tossing  in  from  the  oppo 
site  bank,  knocking  down  the  guns,  and  causing  a  great 
scattering  among  the  men.  Of  Company  D,  only  four 
were  left  besides  the  captain,  and  Rogers,  the  first  ser 
geant  ;  the  rest  having  all  fallen  out.  Of  the  color- 
guard,  none  were  left ;  the  adjutant  getting  off  his 
horse,  and  bringing  in  the  flags.  Of  the  whole  regi 
ment  which  left  Baton  Rouge,  about  five  hundred 
strong,  there  were  left  that  night,  I  think,  only  fifty- 
nine. 

It  was  hard.  Remember  our  packing  aboard  the 
"  St.  Mary's,"  when  rest  was  almost  impossible,  our 
exposure  to  the  storm  the  night  after  we  landed,  and 
then  the  marches.  Our  food  was  poor  and  insufficient. 
We  were  in  what  is  called  "heavy  order."  After  the 
early  morning,  the  sun  became  very  hot ;  and  the  tread 
ing  of  the  long  columns  soon  beat  the  roads  to  dust. 
Wednesday,  we  accomplished  twenty-five  miles  ;  Thurs 
day,  twelve  or  thirteen ;  Friday,  without  an  opportu 
nity  to  cook  any  thing,  eighteen  or  nineteen. 

There  was  more  to  be  done,  however. 

"Which  is  best,"  said  the  colonel,  — "to  undergo  all 
this  fatigue  and  labor,  or  to  fight  bloody  battles,  and 


PURSUIT.  147 

lose  half  the  regiment,  besides  giving  the  enemy  time  to 
prepare  everywhere  for  our  coming  ?  " 

Banks  had  the  alternative  to  follow  by  forced  marches 
on  the  very  heels  of  the  rebels,  or  to  fight  battles.  If 
we  had  gone  more  slowly,  they  would  have  stopped  and 
fortified,  and  been  prepared  to  fight  us  again  and  again. 
Saturday  night,  the  bridge  was  rebuilt.  The  Fifty- 
second  was  ordered  across  in  advance  of  every  thing,  to 
guard  it.  We  lay  down  after  dark  on  the  opposite 
bank,  and  presently  were  drenched  by  torrents  of  rain 
in  a  furious  tempest.  We  lay  in  the  pools,  under  the 
storm,  until  morning ;  then,  with  all  our  baggage 
weighing  double,  we  started  off  through  deep  mud  for 
Opelousas ;  accomplishing  the  march  of  about  twenty- 
five  miles  during  Sunday  and  Monday.  Have  we  not 
earned  our  present  rest? 

I  have  just  had  a  glance  at  a  map.  How  little  one 
can  tell !  Louisiana  is  done  up  neatly  in  pink.  There 
is  a  cool-looking  sheet  of  water,  —  that  dismal  grand 
lake,  where  we  came  so  near  "  going  up,"  all  of  us, 
aboard  the  "  St.  Mary's."  From  Franklin  to  New 
Iberia  is  a  little  stretch-up  through  the  pink.  How- 
small  !  with  not  a  hint  of  those  choking,  dusty  leagues, 
along  which  we  almost  left  our  lives  as  we  limped  over 
them.  Nor  toward  Opelousas  is  there  any  suggestion 
of  those  parched  and  dreary  plains.  It  is  unsatisfactory ; 
but  catch  us  forgetting  what  ache  and  sweat  and  hun 
ger  that  distance  cost  us ! 


148  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTEK  XI. 

ON   THE   BAYOU   COURTABLEAU. 

APRIL  29. — This  is  the  Bayou  Courtableau, — a  spot 
called  Barre's  Landing,  about  eight  miles  from  Opelousas, 
whence  we  marched  last  Sunday.  We  are  glad  of  the 
change.  Water  could  only  be  got  at  our  Opelousas 
camp  by  going  a  respectable  pedestrian  journey.  More 
over,  at  our  first  coming,  creatures  by  the  score  fell 
victims  to  our  hunger.  Parts  of  the  carcasses  of  these 
had  been  left,  and  were  tainting  the  whole  neighborhood. 
We  were  not  sorry,  therefore,  when  the  order  came  to 
march  here,  —  a  march  we  accomplished  in  a  leisurely 
fashion,  taking  most  of  the  day  for  it;  mourning, 
some  of  us,  that  the  day  must  go  by  without  observ 
ance,  like  so  many  previous  Sundays :  but,  on  the 
whole,  not  an  unhappy  company ;  for  we  were  rested 
now ;  and  a  night  or  two  before,  at  dress-parade,  we 
had  heard  Gen.  Banks's  congratulatory  order,  which  told 
us  we  had  done  something,  —  taken  a  large  number  of 
prisoners,  beaten  the  enemy  in  three  or  four  battles, 
destroyed  several  gun-boats  and  transports,  &c. 

Opelousas  was  a  dreary  little  place,  where  we  found 
vegetating  a  population  of  French  Creoles,  —  old  men, 


ON    THE    BAYOU    COURTABLEAU.  149 

women,  and  children.  The  younger  men  are  probably 
all  in  the  rebel  army.  McGill  and  I,  one  day,  got 
leave  to  walk  about  the  streets.  McGill  was  brought 
up  in  Canada,  and  his  patois  appeared  to  serve  him  as 
well  with^these  Creoles  as  if  he  were  in  Quebec.  Pro 
fessions  of  loyalty  were  plenty  enough  ;  but  we  imagined 
they  talked  in  a  different  strain  a  morning  or  two  before, 
when  the  wreck  of  the  rebel  army  came  panting  through, 
and  the  Texans  took  horses  to  escape  to  their  own 
State. 

My  arrest  was  my  most  noteworthy  adventure  at 
Opelousas.  It  was  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  of  our  stay 
there.  I  was  tired  of  lying  with  the  lizards  under  the 
shelter-tent :  so,  as  Bivins  and  two  of  the  corporals  were 
going  off  on  a  sugar  expedition,  I  joined  them.  We 
went  to  the  "  Swayze  Place,"  where  my  companions 
had  been  before.  They  had  given  such  accounts  of  its 
elegance  as  to  arouse  our  interest.  We  made  our  way 
through  a  forest  (killing  a  rattlesnake  in  our  course) , 
entered  the  plantation  gate,  passed  through  a  rather 
squalid  purlieu  of  negro  huts,  then  came  to  the  man 
sion  itself,  —  a  one-story  dwelling,  with  neat  veranda 
and  some  marks  of  taste,  though  house  and  surround 
ings  lacked  finish.  The  garden  was  a  wreck;  and 
through  this  we  passed  without  hinderance,  by  the  open 
door,  into  what  had  been  elegantly  furnished  apart 
ments.  One  had  been  a  library ;  and  the  floor  was 
strewn  with  a  litter  of  valuable  books.  One  had  been 
a  dining-room,  at  one  side  of  which  stood  a  handsomely 
carved  sideboard.  In  the  parlor  was  a  rich  piano,  and 


150  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

other  furniture  in  keeping,  —  all  overturned,  scattered, 
and  marred.  We  went  into  bedrooms,  where  were 
handsome  canopied  beds,  and  heavy  furniture  of  rose 
wood.  In  one  was  a  large  mirror,  in  which  I  caught 
sight  of  a  very  swarthy  and  travel-stained  warrior, 
whom  I  should  never  have  recognized. 

I  hurried  out  with  an  uncomfortable  feeling.  The 
pillage  and  destruction  were  due  in  part  to  our  soldiers, 
in  part  to  the  negroes.  It  was  discreditable  and  pain 
ful.  At  the  sugar-house  was  sugar  going  to  waste. 
My  companions  took  what  they  could  carry  in  their 
blankets,  and  I  took  from  the  deserted  garden  a  handful 
of  onions,  —  articles  really  necessary,  short  of  rations 
as  we  were,  and  which  we  had  been  instructed  we  might 
take.  Then  we  washed  and  filled  our  canteens  from 
the  broken  bucket  of  the  old  well ;  then  going  forward, 
on  our  way  back  we  met  a  company  of  men  coming 
through  the  gate. 

"Is  it  a  picket,  or  what?"  said  we  unsuspectingly; 
but,  as  they  came  up,  they  wheeled  around  us. 

"  Fall  in  as  prisoners  ! "  said  the  lieutenant  in  charge  ; 
and  in  we  were  forced  to  go,  my  companions  with  their 
sugar,  and  I  with  my  fragrant  burden. 

First  they  marched  us  back,  while  they  picked  up 
cavalry-men  and  others  prowling  about  as  we  had 
been.  Then,  with  the  arrested  culprits,  the  guard  set 
off  through  the  woods  for  the  camp. 

We  learned,  in  one  way  and  another,  that  grave 
misdemeanors  had  been  committed  on  the  estate ;  that 
complaint  had  been  made  to  Gen.  Grover,  and  that  the 


ON    THE    BAYOU    COUKTABLEAU.  151 

guard  had  been  despatched  at  once  to  arrest  all  they 
could  find.  We  passed  the  brigade  in  ignominious 
procession.  What  was  to  become  of  me  ?  Word  had 
gone  back  to  my  excellent  parishioners  at  the  North  once 
before,  that  their  minister  and  his  comrades,  when  likely 
to  go  into  danger,  fortified  their  courage  with  doses  of 
gunpowder  and  rum  !  Now  he  was  arrested  as  a  "  me- 
rooder."  Would  it  not  be  the  last  of  me? 

We  reached  the  general's  tent  at  last ;  the  general, 
as  is  his  habit,  pacing  thoughtfully  up  and  down  in  front 
of  it.  "  File  right,  file  left ;  halt !  "  We  are  in  the 
presence.  One  of  the  culprits  was  very  distingue  in  a 
white  shirt,  —  a  "  clean  biled  shirt,"  in  campaigning 
parlance.  This,  it  seems,  he  had  stolen. 

"  Tie  the  man  that  stole  the  shirt  to  the  fence  here. 
Take  the  others  to  your  camp,  and  keep  them  without 
food  or  drink  until  further  orders." 

On  his  heel  again  swings  the  general.  "  Eight  about, 
and  forward  !  "  to  us. 

In  a  dismal  field  we  .are  left,  with  our  feet  in  a 
ditch  ;  the  sun  pouring  down,  and  no  shade.  A  bayo 
net,  with  a  full-blown  Paddy  to  manage  it,  blocks  every 
avenue  of  escape.  Toye  and  Stowell  are  hungry  and 
wrathy ;  I  am  rueful ;  but  Bivins  makes  light  of  his 
misfortunes.  If  the  sergeant  knew  the  words,  I  am 
sure  he  would  repeat,  "  Stone-walls  do  not  a  prison 
make."  As  it  is,  he  sports  with  his  chains,  and,  so  to 
speak,  makes  his  dungeon  ring  with  derisive  laughter. 
We  are  in  our  shirt-sleeves,  and  dread  the  cold  as  night 
approaches.  Toward  dusk,  I  catch  sight  of  a  friend, 


152  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

just  within  hail,  who  is  summoned  with  loud  shoutings, 
and  sent  off  with  a  message  to  the  colonel.  In  about 
an  hour,  enter  the  colonel,  on  horseback,  into  the 
circle  of  firelight  where  we  are  sitting. 

"Well,  well!  how  is  this?" 

We  tell  him  our  story.  We  are  ignorant  of  having 
broken  any  regulation.  We  are  confined  without  judge 
or  jury. 

"  Cannot  you  get  us  out  ?  We  want  our  hard  tack  ; 
we  wa^it  to  go  to  bed." 

The  colonel  has  made  strong  representations  to  the 
general,  to  no  purpose. 

"  Culprits  are  generally  the  most  moral  and  orderly' 
men  in  a  regiment,  according  to  their  officers'  showing. 
At  any  rate,  your  men  were  in  very  bad  company,  and 
must  stand  it." 

All  the  colonel,  even,  can  do,  is  to  pass  sympathy,  as 
it  were,  through  our  dungeon-grate,  and  order  over  our 
blankets  from  the  camp. 

My  friend  who  carried  the  message  comes  up  again, 
when  it  is  dark  enough,  and  tips  me  the  wink  ;  and,  while 
we  engage  apparently  in  indifferent  conversation  (to 
delude  the  vigilant  guard) ,  a  cold  chicken  is  slipped  from 
his  blouse  under  my  vest,  and  a  pile  of  hard  bread 
secreted  under  the  blanket.  In  this  transaction,  however, 
we  are  detected  by  Corporal  Billy  Mulligan,  the  amiable 
functionary  in  charge.  He,  however,  stooping,  whis 
pers,  — 

"  Only  kape  thim  from  the  liftinant,  an'  niver  a 
word'll  I  say." 


ON  THE  BAYOU  COURT ABLE AU.        153 

So  we  have  a  comfortable  supper,  in  spite  of  Gen. 
Grover ;  then  stretch  ourselves  across  a  furrow  in  the 
starlight.  Morning  does  not  bring  us  release,  nor  yet 
noon.  Corporal  Mulligan  prophesies  disgrace.  Allud 
ing  to  our  badges  as  sergeants  and  corporals,  it  is,  — • 

"Och,  bys  !  but  they'll  be  afther  takin'  thim  stripes 
aff  ye." 

la  the  afternoon,  we  rig  up  a  little  canopy  to  keep 
off  the  sun.  A  grand  review  takes  place.  The  Fifty- 
second  marches  by,  little  Claypole  carrying  the  flag; 
Company  D  looking  across  the  field  to  see  their  captured 
comrades.  We  wave  our  coats  and  caps,  like  men 
wrecked  on  a  desert  island  to  a  passing  ship.  Grosve- 
nor  has  got" well,  and  waves  back  to  us  ;  so  the  others. 
At  sundown,  however,  deliverance  comes.  Corporal 
Mulligan  bids  us  an  affectionate  adieu. 

o 

"Be  gorra  !  it's  not  mesilf  that  wanted  to  hould  ye." 

Gen.  Grover  vouchsafes  no  explanation  of  arrest  or 
release.  The  dungeon  yawns,  and  the  oppressed  go 
free. 

Officers  and  men  enjoy  getting  off  sly  jokes  at  me 
about  my  scrape  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  look  back  upon 
it  with  pleasure,  as  helping  to  round  the  cycle  of  my 
military  experiences. 

May  2.  — We  begin  to  see  the  wisdom  of  our  rapid 
marching.  We  not  only  prevented  the  enemy  from 
making  a  stand  and  fortifying,  but  we  completely 
demoralized  and  dissipated  his  force,  taking  a  large 
part  prisoners.  This  chain  of  narrow  bayous  too,  and 
shallow  lakes,  which  we  must  hold  unobstructed  for 


154  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

navigation,  if  the  country  is  to  be  held,  could  never 
have  been  gained  but  by  our  hasty  marches.  A  night's 
intelligent  work,  by  a  few  score  of  men,  would  put 
obstacles  in  the  channels,  which  could  not  be  removed 
for  a  long  time ;  but,  so  rapid  and  overwhelming  was 
our  rush,  there  was  no  time  to  accomplish  even  this. 
Then,  too,  there  was  no  time  for  the  destruction  of 
property ;  so  that  steamers  now  can  come  from  New 
Orleans  and  Brashear  City  to  this  remote  landing, 
bringing  supplies  to  the  army,  and  go  back  loaded  to 
the  water's  edge  with  cotton  and  sugar.  These  pro 
ducts  are  found  in  great  quantities,  stored  everywhere. 
A  mountain  of  bales  is  piled  up  on  the  river-bank,  to 
which  hundreds  of  teams  are  continually  adding.  We 
are  stationed  here,  with  two  or  three  other  regiments, 
to  serve  as  a  guard  while  this  property  is  being  gath 
ered.  Is  this  hard?  It  is  the  Government  policy,  and 
would  be  thus  defended.  The  owners  of  all  this  are 
rebels,  who  have  fled  at  our  approach,  not  waiting  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance.  It  is  right,  therefore, 
to  confiscate  their  property.  It  is  a  hard  thing  ;  but  it 
seems  much  less  hard  when  you  think  that  the  wealth 
thus  taken  was  accumulated  b^the  unrequited  labor  of 
negroes.  I  remember  the  axiom  at  the  foundation 
of  the  science  of  political  economy,  — that  the  basis  of 
wealth  is  human  work  and  sweat.  Who  should  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  the  wealth,  but  those  who  work  and 
sweat?  It  is  right  to  take  this,  and  use  it  in  defraying 
our  expenses  in  this  war ;  for  in  our  triumph  is  coming 
the  time  of  jubilee  to  these  unpaid  blacks. 


ON    THE    BAYOU    COURTABLEAU.  155 

Great  barbarities,  however,  I  fear  have  been  com 
mitted.  They  say  ear-rings  have  been  torn  from  the 
ears  of  women,  and  brooches  from  their  bosoms,  while 
they  sat  with  children  in  their  arms.  At  Opelousas, 
an  order  of  Gen.  Banks  was  read,  speaking  of  the  con 
duct  of  the  stragglers  as  bringing  the  deepest  disgrace 
upon  us, — disgrace  so  deep  as  almost  to  cancel  the 
glory  of  the  success.  Of  these  enormities,  I  myself 
have  seen  but  little.  They  were  committed  by  strag 
glers  ;  and  except  on  one  occasion,  when  I  remained 
to  take  care  of  Sergeant  Grosvenor,  I  did  not  spend  a 
night  away  from  my  place  in  the  regiment. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  fine  mansion  just  this  side  of 
New  Iberia,  out  of  which  Toussaint  brought  the  hand 
some  tapers.  I  did  not  go  in  ;  but  men  came  out  telling 
of  the  smashing  of  mirrors  and  furniture,  and  other 
ruthless  vandalism.  The  destruction  upon  the  Swayze 
Estate  I  saw  after  it  was  accomplished.  I  am  glad 
that  our  regiment  cannot  be  held  guilty  of  any  thing  of 
this  sort.  There  is  a  public  sentiment  among  us  which 
reprobates  such  acts.  There  are  a  few  in  each  company, 
perhaps,  who  might  take  advantage  of  an  opportunity, 
and  be  savages  ;  but  they  do  not  represent  us.  Any 
thing  necessary  to  our  support  we  did  take,  and  with 
the  permission  of  our  leaders.  The  wagon-trains  were 
often  far  behind  :  we  could  not  carry  much  in  our  haver 
sacks  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  coffee,  hard  bread,  and  salt 
pork,  were  pretty  much  the  only  food  furnished.  To 
support  our  exertions,  we  needed  more  abundant  and 
palatable  food.  We  made  free,  therefore,  with  herds, 


156  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

hen-coops,  and  plantation-stores,  which  were  going  to 
waste.  Let  me  own  up  frankly  to  pillaging,  —  to 
having  stolen  onions  in  the  Swayze  Garden ;  to  having 
assisted  in  the  robbing  of  sugar-casks ;  to  having  held 
the  candle  while  a  lot  of  purloined  cattle  were  being 
butchered.  All  this,  however,  I  claim,  was  unavoidable  ; 
and  it  was  certainly  permitted.  For  the  other  unneces 
sary  robbery,  I  disclaim,  for  the  Fifty-second  Massachu 
setts,  all  connection  with  it.  It  is  bad  enough;  but  I 
believe  it  is  foolish  to  call  it  unparalleled,  as  some  do 
call  it.  I  have  read  enough  of  war  and  siege,  —  of 
Magdeburg,  of  Badajos,  of  San  Sebastian  and  Cri 
mean  outrages,  —  to  know  that  such  things  are  only  the 
usual  accompaniments  of  a  great  struggle.  But  how 
dreadful  is  war  !  how  inexcusable,  except  when  it  is  the 
only  way  to  maintain  goodness  and  refinement  and 
truth  against  aggressive  barbarism  ! 

Our  camp  now  is  beautiful.  Who  is  it  (one  of  the 
Brontes  ?)  who  is  so  eloquent  about  her  love  for  midsum 
mer,  with  its  white,  opulent  cloud-masses  and  superb 
verdure?  This  is  the  weather  we  have.  Glorious 
heavens,  and  a  glorious  earth  in  forest  and  plain  !  and 
all  night  long  the  moon  walks  in  splendor,  transfiguring 
the  soldier's  brown  face  as  he  lies  with  his  tent  open  to 
the  wind,  and  his  burnished  weapons  at  his  hand. 

May  14. — A  gentle  rain  is  pattering  on  the  tent- 
roof,  —  grateful  to  us  now  as  a  shower  in  August  in 
Northern  city  or  hamlet.  To  its  soothing  music  the 
other  men  have  gone  to  sleep  ;  while  I  sit  here  with  my 
back  to  the  tent-pole,  writing  words  to  this  pretty  pat- 


ON   THE    BAYOU    COUKTABLEAU.  157 

tering  tune.  May  is  going ;  and  we  are,  generally 
speaking,  as  idle  here  as  during  the  previous  month 
we  were  active.  It  is  nearly  three  weeks  since  we 
encamped  on  the  Courtableau,  —  weeks  of  glorious 
summer.  Day  and  night,  along  the  bayou,  the  mock 
ing-bird  "  shakes  from  his  little  throat  whole  floods  of 
delirious  music ; "  and  over  the  stream,  from  the  boughs 
of  the  big  trees,  hang  the  ladders  of  moss,  —  the  Jacob's 
ladders,  on  which  "  the  angels,  ascending,  descending, 
are  the  swift  humming-birds."  The  distant  forest  line 
is  blue  to  the  eye,  and  of  impenetrable  density.  What 
enchanter's  incense  is  this  sweet  blue  haze  !  lulling  the 
outer  sense,  stimulating  the  fancy ;  so  that  I  sit  under 
our  booth,  my  eyes  upon  the  far-away  woods,  dreaming 
of  romance, — just  now  of  the  "wood  of  Broceliande," 
and  Vivien  charming  Merlin  with  her  spells  "  of  woven 
paces  and  of  waving  arms."  O  sweet  "Idyls  of  the 
King  "  !  is  there  any  poetry  like  you  ?  It  is  all  beau 
tiful.  But  our  sojourn  here  is  inglorious.  Instead  of 
being  left  behind  to  guard  cotton,  I  would  have  pre 
ferred  to  march  with  Banks  to  the  Red  River  :  a  cup 
of  fatigue  and  hardship  it  would  have  been,  but  glori 
ously  dashed  with  excitement. 

The  pile  of  cotton  is  a  mountain  on  the  landing.  All 
day  long,  —  every  day  for  weeks,  —  teams  have  brought 
it  in,  until  it  almost  seems  worth  while  to  build  here  the 
factories  that  are  to  work  it  up  into  fabric ;  but,  since 
Mahomet  will  not  come  to  the  mountain  (to  set  on  its 
head  the  saying) ,  the  mountain  is  going  to  Mahomet. 
Down  it  goes,  piecemeal,  through  the  bayou,  on  little 


158  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

steamers  padded  out  like  lank  belles,  at  every  available 
place,  into  portentous  embonpoint.  They  say  our 
business  here  will  be  finished  when  the  cotton  is  carried 
away :  so  we  watch  the  slow  decrease  of  the  pile,  hear 
the  mocking-birds,  wash  lazily  in  the  bayou  in  contempt 
of  alligators,  and  live  along. 

Along  the  bank  of  the  stream  is  an  immense  camp 
of  negroes.  They  have  come  by  thousands  from  the 
whole  country  round.  Generally,  their  masters  appear 
to  have  fled  ;  and  the  negroes,  harnessing  up  the  mules, 
loading  in  their  families  together  with  their  own  and 
their  masters'  goods,  have  come  crowding  in  to  us. 
They  come  trustingly,  rejoicing  in  their  freedom.  By 
night,  until  long  past  midnight  sometimes,  we  can  hear 
them  shout,  pray,  and  sing.  Gen.  Ullman  has  been 
here,  and  the  able-bodied  men  are  to  become  soldiers. 
The  women  and  older  men,  and  all  not  fit  for  military 
duty,  are  to  go  on  to  plantations  taken  by  the  Govern 
ment  or  by  loyal  men.  They  are  to  receive  wages,  and 
be  well  cared  for.  No  doubt,  their  condition  will  be 
distressing  in  many  cases.  For  them,  it  is  a  most 
momentous  period  of  transition,  —  a  crisis  which  they 
can  hardly  pass  without  suffering ;  but  it  will  be  tem 
porary,  and  a  bright  future  lies  before  them. 

The  other  day,  on  the  bank  of  the  bayou,  I  found  a 
man,  born,  as  he  said,  in  New  Jersey.  He  came  South 
as  steward  of  a  ship,  and  was  coolly  sold  by  his  captain 
into  slavery  at  New  Orleans.  From  there  he  became  a 
plantation-hand,  and  for  fifteen  years  had  been  in 
bondage. 


ON    THE    BAYOU    COURTABLEAU.  159 

Last  week,  there  came  shivering  through  to  us  from 
Port  Hudson,  forty  miles  away,  the  boom  of  a  mighty 
bombardment.  We  heard  them,  Friday  and  Satur 
day,  getting  the  range  ;  then  Saturday  night,  — it  was 
starlight,  and  all  calm  as  an  infant's  sleep, — that  night 
we  heard  the  roar  of  the  real  attack,  —  continuous 
thunder  from  the  far  north-east.  We  could  tell  the 
sharp  reports  of  the  Parrotts,  the  heavier  boom  of 
Dahlgren,  the  long-drawn  crash  of  mortar.  The 
whole  air  listened  ;  and  the  land  trembled,  as  if  it  par 
took  in  the  guilt  of  its  inhabitants,  and  quailed  beneath 
the  blasting  and  thunderous  retribution  that  was  falling. 
We  felt  it,  rather  than  heard  it,  all  through  the  long 
night,  coming  through  desolate  fen  and  over  plain, 
through  wood  and  over  stream ;  imparting  tremor  to 
every  foot  in  those  dreary,  intervening  leagues,  as  if  the 
Genius  of  the  conquering  North  were  making  the  land 
feel  everywhere  the  -indignant  stamp  of  her  resistless 
heel! 

So  we  live  and  listen  and  wait.  I  am  reduced  now 
to  about  the  last  stage.  My  poor  blouse  grows  rag- 
geder.  My  boots,  as  boys  say,  are  hungry  in  many 
places.  I  have  only  one  shirt ;  and  that  has  shrunk 
about  the  neck,  until  buttons  and  button-holes  are  irre 
trievably  divorced,  and  cannot  be  forced  to  meet. 
Washing-days,  if  I  were  anywhere  else,  I  should  have  to 
lie  abed  until  the  washer-woman  brought  home  the  shirt. 
Now  I  cannot  lie  abed,  for  two  reasons  :  first,  I  am 
washer-woman  myself;  second,  the  bed  is  only  bed  at 
night.  By  daytime,  it  is  parlor-iloor,  divan,  dining- 


160  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

table,  and  library,  and  therefore  taken  up.  I  button 
up  in  my  blouse,  therefore ;  and  can  so  fix  myself,  and 
so  brass  matters  through,  that  you  would  hardly 
suspect,  unless  you  looked  sharp,  what  a  whited  sepul 
chre  it  was  that  stood  before  you.  I  have  long  been 
without  a  cup.  Somebody  stole  mine  long  ago  ;  and  I, 
unfortunate  for  me,  am  deterred,  by  the  relic  of  a  moral 
scruple  which  still  lingers  in  my  breast,  from  stealing 
somebody  else's  in  return.  My  plate  is  the  original 
Camp-Miller  tin  plate,  worn  down  now  to  the  iron.  I 
have  leaned  and  lain  and  stood  on  it,  until  it  looks  as 
if  it  were  in  the  habit  of  being  used  in  the  exhibitions 
of  some  strong  man,  who  rolled  it  up  and  unrolled  it 
to  show  the  strength  of  his  fingers.  There  is  a  big 
crack  down  the  side;  and,  soup-days,  there  is  a  great 
rivalry  between  that  crack  and  my  mouth,  — the  point 
.  of  strife  being,  which  shall  swallow  most  of  the  soup ; 
the  crack  generally  getting  the  best  of  it. 

Rations  pall  now-a-days.  The  thought  of  soft  bread 
is  an  oasis  in  the  memory.  Instead  of  that,  our 
wearied  molars  know  only  hard-tack,  and  hard  salt 
beef  and  pork.  We  pine  for  simple  fruits  and  vegeta 
bles.  The  other  day,  however,  I  received  a  gift.  An 
easy-conscienced  friend  of  mine  brought  in  a  vast 
amount  of  provender  from  a  foraging  expedition,  and 
bestowed  upon  me  a  superb  turkey,  —  the  biggest 
turkey  I  ever  saw ;  probably  the  grandfather  of  his 
whole  race.  His  neck  and  breast  were  decorated  with 
a  va'st  number  of  red  and  purple  tassels  and  trimmings. 
He  was  very  fat,  moreover ;  so  that  he  looked  like  an 


ON    THE    BAYOU    COURTABLEAU.  161 

apoplectic  sultan.  I  carried  him  home  with  toil  and 
sweat ;  but  what  to  do  with  him  for  the  night !  If  he 
had  been  left  outside,  he  would  certainly  have  been 
stolen  :  so  the  only  way  was  to  make  a  bedfellow  of 
him.  Occasionally  he  woke  up,  and  "gobbled;"  and 
I  feared  all  night  long  the  peck  of  his  bill  and  the  im 
pact  of  his  spurs.  In  the  morning,  we  immolated  him 
with  appropriate  ceremonies.  The  chaplain's  coal -hod, 
the  best  thing  in  camp  to  make  a  soup  in ,  was  in  use  ; 
but  I  found  a  kettle,  and  presided  over  the  preparation 
of  an  immense  and  savory  stew,  the  memory  whereof 
will  ever  steam  up  to  me  from  the  past  with  grateful 
sweetness. 

In  spite  of  hard  fare,  I  appear  to  flourish.  The 
other  day,  I  thought  I  was  afflicted  with  some  strange 
and  terrible  disease.  I  was  growing  short-winded,  and 
had  a  novel  fulness  about  the  waist,  which  tightened 
my  vest-buttons.  Yesterday,  however,  I  was  weighed, 
and  found  myself  fourteen  or  fifteen  pounds  beyond  my 
usual  weight.  I  was  short-winded  only  because  I  was 
pursy  ;  and  the  protuberant  stomach  was  simply  adipose. 
My  gait,  too,  I  thought  was  affected.  Alas  !  is  it 
simply  that  I  waddle? 


102  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

IN   THE    HOSPITAL. 

JUNE  1.  — A  fortnight  ago  to-day,  having  obtained 
the  requisite  permit ;  having  washed  off  the  stains 
which  rough  work  had  left,  and  drawn  a  new  blouse,  — 
with  the  chaplain  and  surgeon,  I  embarked  on  the  Cour- 
tableau  for  Brashear  City.  We  left  the  Fifty-second 
under  marching  orders  for  the  same  point,  —  a  long, 
tedious,  fatiguing  piece  of  work.  I  felt  a  little  uncom 
fortable,  hearty  as  I  was,  at  riding  down  at  my  ease, 
while  sick  men  must  march  it ;  but  the  errand  upon 
which  I  was  bound,  I  felt  to  be  of  the  first  importance. 

The  little  steamer  was  loaded  almost  to  sinking  with 
cotton,  contrabands,  and  soldiers  of  the  brigade  too 
feeble  to  endure  the  march  of  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles.  We  had  for  pilot  a  smart  negro,  who  told  me 
about  the  Red -River  raft  and  the  former  difficulties  of 
the  Atchafalaya ;  through  which  stream  he  claimed  to 
have  been  the  first  man  to  navigate  a  steamboat.  The 
Courtableau  was  narrow  and  winding ;  densely  wooded 
on  both  sides  ;  the  channel  often  running  close  to  the 
boughs  :  so  that,  all  the  way  down  the  stream,  upon 
the  branches  had  caught  shreds  of  cotton  from  the  bales 


IN   THE   HOSPITAL.  163 

aboard  the  steamers,  as  people  carried  into  captivity  by 
the  Indians,  in  old  times,  left  pieces  of  their  dress  to 
mark  a  path  for  pursuing  friends.  Alligators  were 
numerous  as  turtles  in  a  Northern  mill-pond  in  hot 
weather,  sunning  themselves  on  logs  or  slimy  banks,  or 
swimming  in  the  stream,  —  scaly,  ungainly  objects  !  a 
race  left  over  from  the  pre- Adamite  world,  which  ought 
to  have  received  its  quietus  with  the  pterodactyls  ;  yet 
a  race  not  out  of  place  in  the  swamp-country  of  Loui 
siana,  which  seems  at  least  one  whole  geologic  age 
behind  the  rest  of  the  world. 

The  Atchafalaya,  which  receives  the  Corn-tableau,  is 
scarcely  wider  than  its  tributary.  The  current  we 
found  very  swift,  and  the  river  sometimes  almost  doubled 
backward.  My  black  friend  in  the  pilot-house,  how 
ever,  with  one  hand  on  the  wheel  and  the  other  on  the 
engine-bell,  was  equal  to  every  crisis.  We  passed  into 
snaggy  lakes  at  last ;  then  into  the  Grand  Lake,  where 
we  saw  the  landing,  from  which,  about  a  month  before, 
we  had  advanced  toward  Franklin.  In  due  time,  we 
reached  Brashear  City ;  whence,  the  next  day,  we  took 
the  train  for  New  Orleans. 

I  bought  a  handsome  slab  of  marble,  and  caused  it 
to  be  suitably  inscribed  for  Edward's  grave ;  and,  when 
it  was  done,  I  took  passage  on  a  Government-transport 
for  Baton  Rouge.  We  left  Baton  Rouge  early  in 
April,  full  of  troops ;  but  now,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  pale  convalescents  and  a  negro  regiment,  the  streets 
were  as  innocent  of  drum-music  and  soldiers'  tramp 
as  if  peace  had  come.  The  works  near  the  cemetery 


164  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

had  been  built,  during  our  absence,  into  a  formidable 
citadel,  frowning  upon  the  eastern  woods,  and  upon  the 
river  to  the  west,  with  mailed  and  weaponed  brows. 
The  grave,  however,  was  unchanged  ;  the  cross,  white  at 
the  head;  the  vine  covering  it  deep,  and  still  bearing  a 
few  late  blossoms.  I  reared  the  marble  in  the  early 
morning  sunlight,  to  stand  a  pure  and  enduring  sentinel 
until  we  can  bring  his  ashes  to  rest  nearer  home. 

At  Baton  Eouge,  we  heard  first  of  the  sudden  invest 
ment  of  Port  Hudson  by  Gen.  Banks ;  and  that  every 
day,  in  front  of  the  beleaguered  fortress,  such  a  battle 
was  threatened  as  the  department  had  never  known. 
The  transports  were  all  detained  to  wait  for  this  struggle  ; 
and  even  the  sick  had  been  sent  up  from  the  hospitals 
to  do  duty  with  the  ambulances.  There  would  be  no 
opportunity  to  rejoin  the  regiment  for  some  days  ;  so  I 
went  to  the  medical  director  :  "I  am  so-and-so,  doctor, 
on  leave  of  absence.  If  I  can  be  of  service,  send  nie 
up  as  a  nurse  till  I  can  rejoin  my  regiment."  That 
night  I  went  to  "  Springfield  Landing,"  three  miles 
below  the  grim,  hostile  batteries,  — as  near  as  peaceful 
vessels  dare  go.  As  we  touched  land  at  midnight,  the 
air  was  full  of  thunder ;  and  whirling  among  the  stars 
went  the  lighted  fuses  of  the  slow-revolving  bombs, 
high  up  toward  the  zenith,  then  dropping  through  a 
long,  fire-lit  arc  to  a  deep  explosion,  —  all  this  now 
close  at  hand  :  what  we  had  been  hearing  on  the  remote 
bayou,  fifty  miles  away. 

Here  began  my  week  of  hospital- work,  —  a  week 
of  most  profound  and  soul-touching  experiences,  —  a 


IN    THE    HOSPITAL.  165 

week  when  work  went  on  from  day-dawn  to  day-dawn 
almost  without  intermission ;  when  new  resources  and 
new  strength  were  developed  in  all  who  were  there. 

Without  mattress  or  covering,  I  had  been  sleeping 
on  the  bare  boards  of  the  cabin,  when  the  halting  of 
the  boat,  and  the  roar  of  the  fleet-guns  in  the  river 
just  ahead,  awakened  me.  As  the  bow  touched  the 
shore,  a  slight,  pleasant-faced  gentleman,  with  nothing 
to  denote  his  connection  with  the  army  but  a  little  badge 
on  his  Panama-hat,  came  up  the  cabin-stairs. 

"Where  can  I  find  Dr.  L ,  sir?" 

"  I  am  Dr.  L ,"  was  his  answer ;  and  I  presented 

my  credentials.  The  doctor  was  in  charge  of  the  hos 
pital  at  the  landing.  There  were  tents  pitched ;  but 
they  were  filled  with  stores  or  with  other  men  :  so,  for 
the  night,  I  remained  aboard  the  steamer ;  and,  in  spite 
of  the  cannonade,  slept  well. 

I  arose  at  dawn,  — it  was  Sunday,  the  24th  of  May, 
—  and  took  the  first  view  by  daylight  of  my  new  loca 
tion.  The  river,  I  found,  was  here  divided,  — Prophet 
Island  standing  between  the  two  branches  of  the  stream. 
I  could  see  the  "  Richmond  "  at  the  distance  of  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  up  the  river,  and  was  told  that  the 
remaining  vessels  of  the  fleet  lay  near  her.  Beyond 
the  "Richmond"  lay  the  threatening  line  of  bluffs,  on 
which  were  planted  the  rebel  batteries  ;  but  from  that 
distance  they  could  not  be  seen. 

Close  at  hand,  the  shore  was  so  low  as  evidently  to 
be  covered  by  the  river  at  high  water.  The  soil  gave 
evidence  of  having  been  lately  submerged,  though  now 


166  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

it  was  dry.  Dr.  L 's  tents,  two  or  three  in  num 
ber,  were  pitched  in  a  grove  of  young  saplings,  in  the 
rear  of  a  great  pile  of  ammunition  and  subsistence. 
Back  of  these,  again,  ran  the  road  by  which  communi 
cation  was  maintained  with  the  army.  The  "  Kineo  " 
lay  at  anchor  a  rod  or  two  from  shore ;  and  up  the 
bank  a  little  way  were  tents,  and  three  or  four  Parrott 
siege-guns  of  the  largest  caliber  I  have  ever  seen  on 
wheels.  The  only  building  near  was  an  old  warehouse, 
which  we  tore  to  pieces  for  fuel. 

Breakfast  was  cooked  among  the  saplings  ;  and  there  I 
first  met  my  fellow-nurses.  There  were  two  stout  cor 
porals  of  a  Maine  regiment,  good-natured  and  bovine  ; 
a  round-faced  corporal  of  another  regiment ;  a  stout 
battery-man  —  an  ex-teamster  from  the  Quincy  quarries 
—  of  the  Fourth  Massachusetts  regiment ;  the  skipper 
of  a  West -India  trading -brig,  who  had  come  from 
Bangor  to  try  his  hand  at  war ;  &c.  Most  of  them 
were  convalescents  from  Baton  Rouge,  not  yet  recovered 
enough  to  rejoin  their  regiments,  but  considered  fit  for 
hospital-duty.  So  great  was  the  want  of  men,  that  the 
sick  were  almost  taken  from  their  beds  and  set  to  work. 
There  was  also  a  hospital -steward,  — a  good-looking, 
capable  fellow,  with  his  golden  caduceus,  embroidered 
upon  green,  just  above  his  elbow.  There  was,  besides, 
a  functionary  whom  we  called  the  commissary,  whose 
business  was  to  guard  and  deal  out  the  stores. 

A  great  battle  might  happen  at  any  hour.  Already 
many  wounded  had  been  brought  in,  and  despatched  to 
Baton  Rouge,  from  the  preliminary  skirmishes ;  and  it 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL*  167 

was  high  time  for  the  doctor  to  complete  his  prepara 
tions.  He  collected  us  in  line  before  him,  and  gave  us 
his  instructions.  We  were  not  to  go  from  the  landing  : 
we  were  to  pay  most  careful  attention  to  the  comfort  of 
the  wounded ;  and,  if  we  were  detailed  to  go  to  Baton 
Rouge  with  boat-loads  of  them,  there  must  be  perfect 
kindness  and  faithfulness. 

There  was  plenty  to  be  done.  We  could  hear  the 
sound  of  heavy  guns  at  the  front ;  and  all  the  morning  we 
were  very  busy  pitching  new  tents,  sweeping  and  police- 
ing  about  the  hospital,  collecting  fuel,  and  chopping 
down  inconvenient  trees.  When  I  am  with  the  regi 
ment,  owing  to  my  profession,  which  is  generally  known, 
I  am  treated  with  some  deference.  Things  have  been 
made  easy  for  me  by  the  kindness  of  friends  ;  and  I  am 
spared  many  of  the  rough  knocks  to  which  the  rank  and 
file  in  general  are  exposed.  Here,  however,  I  was 
unknown.  I  stood  among  the  rest  simply  a  corporal 
of  infantry.  No  one  knew  me  as  a  clergyman ;  we 
none  of  us  knew  each  other's  antecedents  and  expecta 
tions.  We  were  briskly  ordered  here  and  there.  I 
was  glad  to  see  that  I  passed  among  the  others  for  a 
pretty  stout  fellow  ;  being  set  with  the  strongest  to  chop 
and  dig  and  clean.  I  worked  with  a  will ;  and  believe 
I  established  myself  that  first  day,  in  the  good  opinion 
of  the  doctor  and  the  steward,  as  a  pretty  tolerable 
hand.  Most  of  the  nurses  being  convalescents,  a  good 
deal  fell  to  the  share  of  the  two  or  three  of  us  who 
called  ourselves  well. 

At  noon,  a  number  of  sick  arrived  from  the  front. 


168  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

We  heard  sharper  firing.  The  "Kineo,"  weighing  an 
chor, —  her  crew,  who  all  the  morning  had  been  on 
deck,  in  clean,  fresh  dresses,  stripping  off  their  shirts,  — 
began  to  make  headway  up  stream  to  go  into  action. 
Presently  we  heard  her  eleven-inch  gun  close  up  under 
the  batteries.  During  the  afternoon,  long  trains  of 
army-wagons  took  off  commissary  and  ordnance  stores  ; 
the  useful  mule-teams  dragging  through  the  light  soil 
loads  that  would  soon  use  up  the  stoutest  horses.  At 
the  end  of  the  afternoon,  the  medical  director  came 

up  with  Dr.  F ,  who  is  to  be  associated  with  Dr. 

L in   the   conduct   of  the  hospital.     With    these 

gentlemen  came  ice,  lemons,  soft  bread,  wine,  &c.  ; 
which  we  got  up  to  the  tents,  then  went  to  work  vigor 
ously  on  ice-houses.  The  medical  director  went  to  the 
front,  and  brought  back  word,  at  dark,  that  the  "news 
is  good ;  we  are  closing  in  on  them ;  the  assault  is  im 
pending,  and  we  must  be  ready." 

Next  day  we  finish  our  ice-houses.  We  get  through, 
too,  with  our  tent-pitching, — putting  up  two  large 
pavilions,  capable  of  holding  about  sixty  wounded, 
stretched  out  at  length,  with  comfort,  and  more  than 
that  with  crowding.  At  noon  came  in  more  of  the  sick, 
and  the  first  wounded  man  since  my  arrival.  We  carry 
him  on  his  stretcher  out  under  the  trees,  where  it  is 
shady  and  cool ;  and  I,  anxious  to  be  broken  in  as  soon 
as  possible,  kneel  down  by  the  side  of  the  hospital 
steward  to  learn  the  operations  of  dressing.  This  man 
had  been  shot  through  the  leg  in  a  skirmish ;  not  a 
severe  hurt,  as  compared  with  wounds  often  received. 


IN    THE    HOSPITAL.  169 

I  moisten  the  bandages,  dry  and  stiff  with  blood,  until 
they  unwind  easily.  We  lay  bare  and  gently  wash  the 
bullet-holes  through  the  limb,  apply  fresh  lint  and  clean 
bandages,  and  bring  the  man  to  rest  under  the  tent. 
In  the  afternoon,  we  have  arrivals  of  thirty  or  forty 
sick  or  wounded.  The  ambulances  stop  in  the  road ; 
and  we  go  down  with  stretchers,  four  men  to  each. 
Generally,  the  wounded  are  sadly  wearied  and  jolted 
by  the  long  ride  over  a  rough  road.  They  come  with 
various  hurts,  —  shot  in  body,  head,  legs,  and  arms. 
As  gently  as  we  can,  we  move  them  from  the  wagons 
to  the  stretchers ;  then  from  the  stretchers  again  to  the 
pallets  on  the  floors  of  the  tents. 

It  grew  dark  while  they  were  arriving.  We  moist 
ened  their  bandages,  gave  them  iced  lemonade  and 
punch,  and  brought  them  toast  and  tea  from  the  cook's. 
One  was  a  stout  German  sergeant,  shot  through  the 
foot  accidentally  by  a  comrade.  We  had  numbers  of 
such  cases.  Several  had  lost  an  arm,  the  stump  being 
done  up  in  bloody  bandages  ;  many  had  had  a  hand  or 
foot  badly  shattered.  By  candle-light,  the  surgeons 
made  their  rounds.  At  this  depot,  all  that  was  intended 
was  to  refresh  the  patients,  and  transfer  them  comforta 
bly  to  the  boats  for  Baton  Rouge.  There  convenient 
hospitals  were  prepared,  and  surgeons  to  attend  them. 
Here  it  was  the  design  only  to  dress  such  wounds  as 
needed  it  at  once,  and  perform  such  operations  as  were 
immediately  pressing. 

This  night,  I  saw  a  wound  probed  for  the  first  time. 
The  bullet  had  entered  just  above  the  knee.  Dr.  F. 

8 


170  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

came  in  with  his  probe,  a  fine  instrument  of  steel,  with 
a  small  ball  of  ivory  at  the  end.  I  shrank  from  seeing 
it  done,  but  thought  I  must  accustom  myself  to  it,  or  I 
should  be  able  to  do  nothing  at  all.  The  patient  was  a 
brave,  easy  fellow,  who  started  coolly,  in  the  operation,  to 
hold  the  light  for  the  doctor,  himself.  The  pain  was  too 
great  for  that :  but  still  he  was  smiling  and  unflinching 
through  the  whole  of  it ;  straightening  up  on  his  hands 
from  his  couch,  and  offering  his  leg  to  the  instrument. 

From  evening  it  becomes  night.  The  surgeons  re— 
tire  ;  and  one  by  one  the  nurses  drop  off,  until  at  length, 
long  past  midnight,  only  two  or  three  of  us  are  left. 
The  candles  burn  low;  the  wounded  sleep,  or  groan  as 
their  smarts  and  aches  drive  away  slumber.  Carefully 
and  quietly  we  step  frcmi  one  to  another,  and  soothe 
them  as  tenderly  as  we  can.  At  last,  we  wake  up 
some  of  the  nurses  who  have  slept ;  and,  expecting  a 
hard  day  when  the  sun  rises,  lay  down  for  a  few  hours' 
rest  ourselves. 

Tuesday  morning,  after  all,  opened  with  little  to  be 
done.  Before  I  rose,  the  wounded  we  had  been  tend 
ing  had  been  moved  aboard  a  steamer,  and  were  on 
their  way  to  comfort.  The  ice-houses  now  were  all 
filled.  Among  the  stores  were  quantities  of  whiskey, 
wine,  lemons,  soft  bread,  lint,  bandages,  &c.  The 
surgeons  had  their  instruments  in  readiness  ;  the  cooks 
had  convenient  kitchens,  and  huge  boilers  for  making 
soup,  tea,  and  coffee.  Negroes  were  procured  to  sweep 
out  the  great  tents,  clear  out  the  bloody  bandages  and 
cotton,  and  lay  beds,  sweet  and  fresh,  for  the  next  lot 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL.  171 

of  sufferers.  The  doctors  were  kind,  and  wished  us  to 
rest  while  we  could.  During  the  forenoon,  I  slept ;  at 
noon,  dined  light  on  soft  bread  and  tea  (for,  during  this 
whole  week,  our  fare  was  rather  light  for  our  work)  ; 
got  a  drink  of  ice-water  from  a  barrel  in  front  of  the 
commissary's,  and  was  entirely  fresh  again.  Bed-ticks 
in  great  quantity  were  on  hand.  From  the  quarter 
master  we  got  bales  of  hay,  and  stuffed  the  ticks ; 
heaping  up  a  great  pile  to  use  from.  We  got  out  mos 
quito-bars  to  protect  the  wounded  from  the  flies ;  had 
pails,  wash-basins,  and  sponges  all  in  readiness ;  and, 
soon  in  the  afternoon,  the  ambulances  began  to  arrive. 

The  battle  has  not  yet  been  fought.  These  are  still 
only  the  victims  of  the  preliminary  skirmishes,  and  those 
who  have  been  accidentally  injured.  The  beds  are 
spread  in  rows.  The  great  hospital-tents  stand  one 
behind  the  other ;  the  canvas  between  them,  .and,  at 
either  end,  looped  up  high,  so  that  the  air  can  draw 
freely  through.  The  beds  lie  in  four  long  rows  on  the 
ground,  from  end  to  end,  the  outermost  rows  close 
down  under  the  eaves,  an  aisle  running  down  between. 
Beside  ourselves,  we  have  our  stout  negroes  for  help ; 
and,  one  by  one,  the  ambulances  are  emptied. 

"Take  them  carefully,  boys!  Ambulance-driver, 
you  are  used  to  handling  them.  Get  over  from  your 
seat  in  front,  and  manage  the  head  of  the  poor  pros 
trate  fellow.  Let  one  take  the  feet,  as  we  slide  him 
out ;  now  a  stout  one,  to  catch  him  at  the  hips.  Care 
fully,  down  upon  the  canv-as  I  Stop  groaning  !  Poor 
fellow !  it  is  over." 


172  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

Here  is  one  with  foot  mashed  by  a  piece  of  shell. 
This  one  is  struck  in  the  calf.  Here  is  one  whose  leg  is 
gone.  The  bloody  swathings  are  hot  and  stiff.  We 
will  moisten  them  with  ice-cold  water.  Here  is  one 
struck  in  the  groin :  the  ball  has  gone  through,  and 
been  cut  out  of  the  haunch  behind.  He  lives,  is  bright, 
and  may  get  well.  This  cavalry-man  is  shot  clear 
through,  from  hip  to  hip.  He  is  stripped,  and  the 
bullet-holes  on  each  side  are  plain.  He  lives  too. 
What  will  not  the  human  body  endure  ?  A  solid  shot 
has  struck  this  cannoneer  in  the  bowels.  Mortally 
wounded  he  is.  The  doctor  takes  off  the  broad  piece 
of  cloth  that  covers  the  hurt,  revealing  the  horrible 
mangling  ;  then  replaces  it.  There  is  nothing  for  him 
but  a  dose  of  nfbrphine  to  deaden  the  pain.  They 
have  been  hit  everywhere.  Hardly  a  muscle  or  bone 
or  fibre  of  the  human  body  but  has  been  struck  in 
one  or  another  of  this  unfortunate  company, — lungs, 
shoulders  and  chest,  arms  and  hands,  neck,  face,  eyes  ; 
and,  while  I  am  moving  a  tall  Zouave  in  his  brilliant 
dress,  the  cloth  upon  his  head  drops  off,  as  his  shoul 
ders  are  in  my  hands.  The  skull  is  cleft  by  a  fragment 
of  shell,  apparently,  deep  down  into  the  brain,  whose 
inmost  recesses  are  revealed  in  the  bright  sun.  Yet  he 
lives  too  ! 

All  now  are  in  the  two  tents.  The  ambulance- 
drivers  go  back  to  the  cooks  for  their  suppers  ;  but  our 
work  is  only  begun.  The  doctors  go  rapidly  from  man 

to  man.  I  follow  Dr.  L with  a  pail  of  water, 

soon  red  and  thick  with  blood,  with  which  to  moisten 


IN    THE    HOSPITAL.  173 

the  dressings.  Quickly,  but  pleasantly  and  quietly,  he 
lays  bare  the  most  hideous  hurts.  I  catch  the  lesson 
from  him.  Do  not  let  the  patient  see  an  over-anxious 
face,  nor  hear  too  deep  sympathy  in  the  voice,  lest  it 
should  alarm.  Be  cheerful  and  tender,  and  let  tone 
and  look  give  as  much  encouragement  as  possible. 

Dr.  L has  another  assistant,  —  a  gentleman  in 

citizen's  dress,  of  intellectual  face,  fiill  of  nerve,  and 
ready-handed, — who  kneels  at  one  side  of  the  doctor, 
as  I  do  at  the  other,  holding  the  instruments.  The  light 
is  not  bright,  and  I  have  little  leisure  for  any  thing  but 
the  wounds ;  yet  I  find  time  to  study  this  man  some. 
He  is  Barclay,  a  young  minister ;  here  as  a  delegate  of 
the  Christian  Commission.  In  a  day  or  two,  I  know  him 
better.  So  we  go  from  bed  to  bed,  stepping  carefully 
among  bandaged  shoulders,  and  bloody  stumps  of  legs 
and  arms,  and  faces  pale  as  the  swathings  that  wrap  the 
head  above.  Generally,  the  most  severe  wounds  are 
not  apparently  painful ;  the  sufferer  lying  benumbed,  I 
suppose,  by  the  severing  of  important  nerves.  Lacera 
tions  of  the  hands  and  feet  appear  to  cause  most  agony. 
Again  we  work  on,  until  the  candles  burn  low ;  holding 
ice  here,  bathing  a  limb  or  back  there,  or  holding  tea  to 
pale  lips  here.  It  is  morning  again,  when  I  arouse  a 
sleeper  to  take  his  turn,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  sleep. 

Through  Wednesday  morning,  we  hear  a  fiercer  can 
nonade  than  before.  A  few  sick  come  in  from  the  front 
during  the  forenoon;  but  these,  and  the  wounded  we 
had  the  night  previous,  are  speedily  sent  to  Baton  Rouge. 
I  catch  a  little  sleep  after  dinner;  and,  when  I  awake, 


174  THE   COLOK-GUARD. 

am  set  upon  a  dreadful  task.  It  is  to  watch  the  can 
noneer,  wounded  in  the  bowels.  He  was  struck  on 
Saturday.  It  is  Wednesday  evening,  and  he  is  still 
alive,  but  with  his  wound  and  whole  body  in  a  condi 
tion  not  to  be  described.  He  lies  stripped  for  greater 
coolness,  only  covered  with  a  netting.  Somebody  must 
watch  beside  him.  He  is  delirious,  but  wants  water 
and  to  be  fanned ;.  and,  loathsome  as  he  is,  an  attendant 
must  be  at  his  side.  He  tears  the  cloth  from  his  hor 
rible  wound,  and  I  must  replace  it.  I  must  stand  ready 
to  catch  his  hands.  He  is  decomposing  like  a  corpse, 
although  life  yet  remains.  Toward  midnight,  he  receives 
a  still  heavier  dose  of  morphine,  and  I  can  leave.  I 
hear  that  he  died  before  morning. 

While  I  have  been  at  this  task,  much  has  been  doing. 
Early  after  dark,  word  comes  from  the  front,  of  the 
repulse  and  terrible  loss  of  the  storming  party ;  and 
the  surgeons  are  warned  of  the  approach  of  a  large 
number  of  wounded.  We  hear  of  the  fall  of  generals 
and  colonels,  and  rank  and  file  without  number ;  and 
close  upon  the  heels  of  the  intelligence  follow  the 
ambulances,  loaded  as  never  before  with  hastily  dressed 
wounded  from  the  field-hospitals  in  front.  It  is  about 
ten  o'clock  when  I  go  aboard  the  "Iberville"  at  the 
landing  ;  to  which  the  ambulances  are  transferring  their 
loads  at  once,  instead  of  leaving  them  first  in  our  tents. 
As  I  enter  the  cabin-door,  the  long,  handsome  saloon, 
from  end  to  end,  is  filled  with  the  victims  of  the  battle 
just  fought.  From  the  rich,  bronze  chandeliers,  light 
falls  upon  a  ghastly  sight,  —  all  the  ghastlier  from  con- 


IN    THE    HOSPITAL.  175 

trast  with  the  elegance  about.  I  can  hardly  step  among 
the  prostrate  and  gory  company.  And  so  they  lie  all 
through  the  long  perspective,  the  great  mirror  at  the 
farther  end  repeating  it  all  anew ;  the  stains  upon  their 
wrappings,  about  heads  and  limbs  and  bodies,  red  as  the 
figures  of  the  rich  carpet  upon  which  they  lie. 

At  the  farther  end,  just  in  front  of  the  mirror,  lie  a 
Zouave  major,  two  colonels,  an  adjutant  of  a  Maine 
regiment,  then  the  brave  and  unfortunate  young  colonel 
of  the  Massachusetts  Forty-ninth.  He  lost  a  leg  at 
Ball's  Bluff.  Now  he  is  shot  through  the  other  foot 
and  through  the  wrist.  Only  twenty-three  !  I  watch 
his  face  and  figure,  and  think  how  Dr.  Holmes  would 
write  him  down  a  Brahmin  of  the  Brahmins.  There  is 
no  sign  of  suffering  upon  his  well-cut,  knightly  features. 
He  meets  pain  with  calm  dignity.  His  tall,  slight  figure 
is  stretched  at  length  upon  his  couch,  —  the  slender, 
white  foot  showing  out,  bandaged  up  about  the  instep. 
The  officers  all  are  patient  and  brave.  One  colonel  is 
shot  through  the  face,  the  other  through  the  arm  and 
back,  the  adjutant  in  the  knee,  the  Zouave  in  the  body. 
Their  fine  uniforms  are  stained  with  battle-gore,  and 
ruffled  by  the  long  ambulance-ride,  —  gold  lace  and 
brilliant  trimmings  all  torn  and  cut  to  reach  the  hurt. 

There  is  much  to  be  done.  Dr.  L and  Barclay 

are  there,  and  but  few  others.  There  are  many  thirsty 
ones,  —  many  whose  wounds  feel  as  if  a  burning  brand 
were  being  applied,  and  who  call  for  water.  Barclay 
is  attending  to  these  wants  ;  and,  besides,  is  applying 
the  stores  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  of  which  he  is 


176  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

also  an  agent.  I  do  not  know  where  he  keeps  them ; 
but  it  seems  as  if  he  must  have  them  in  some  way  com 
pressed  into  his  pocket,  so  readily  does  he  produce  clean 
white  garments,  pillows,  and  towels,  whenever  they  are 
needed. 

Here  on  a  pallet  lies  a  German  corporal  —  Philbert 
his  name  —  belonging  to  a  New- York  regiment.  An 
officer  near  says  he  is  the  literary  man  of  the  regiment, 
a  refined  scholar  and  gentleman,  who  has  gone  into  the 
ranks  to  help  his  adopted  country.  He  lies  with  a 
painful  wound  through  his  wrist,  — brave,  cheerful,  and 
modest.  He  tells  how  he  carried  a  fascine  in  the  first 
line,  in  front  of  the  stormers  ;  and  how  all  were  swept 
down  in  the  whirlwind  of  canister  and  grape  they  met 
as  they  came  within  range.  Some  are  benumbed  and 
stupefied,  some  groaning  in  great  pain  ;  but  often  I  find 
cheerful,  smiling  faces. 

The  drink  gives  out,  and  I  go  ashore  to  refill  the 
pails.  Just  as  I  step  out  into  the  open  air,  I  hear  loud 
shrieks  and  cries.  I  hurry  on  to  the  Levee.  The  moon, 
nearly  full,  is  now  low  in  the  west ;  and  I  see  clearly  by 
its  light  an  ambulance,  just  arrived,  about  which  an 
escort  of  Zouaves  —  in  uniforms  of  white  and  scarlet, 
set  off  with  silver  lace  —  are  hurrying.  In  the  throng, 
too,  are  more  soberly-dressed  ambulance-men,  —  all 
covered  with  dust.  A  wounded  man  is  just  being  taken 
out.  I  hurry  to  the  spot,  finding  Barclay  there,  of 
course  ;  for  he  is  always  where  there  is  suffering.  He 
whispers  to  me  that  it  is  a  famous  general  of  division. 
Dr.  F ,  who  is  directing  matters,  catches  my  eye  in 


IX    THE    HOSPITAL.  177 

the  crowd,  and  sends  me  off  for  a  stimulant.  It  is 
put  to  the  general's  lips  ;  and  I  follow  the  litter  aboard 
Admiral  Farragut's  despatch-steamer,  which  is  to  convey 
him  to  New  Orleans.  I  catch  sight  of  his  agonized 
face  in  the  moonlight,  and  recognize  him  as  the  same 
general  in  whose  tent  I  had  sat  on  one  occasion,  rather 
more  than  a  year  before,  in  the  camp  at  Port  Royal. 

I  left  him  groaning  and  shrieking  beneath  the  awning 
on  the  deck  of  the  little  steamer,  and  went  up  again  to 
the  tents  to  procure  the  refreshments  and  other  articles 
I  was  in  search  off;  then  returned  to  the  cabin  of  the 
"Iberville."  It  was  now  far  toward  daylight.  The 
surgeons  had  all  retired,  except  one  who  had  volun 
teered  for  the  time  from  one  of  the  ships  of  the  fleet. 
There  was  still  plenty  to  be  done  ;  but  I  waked  up  some 
of  the  sleepers,  and  lay  down  for  a  few  hours'  rest. 

I  could  not  sleep  long;  and,  soon  after  sunrise,  was 
about  again.  I  ate  my  light  breakfast  of  bread  and 
tea,  and  went  again  to  the  "  Iberville's  "  cabin.  She  was 
loaded  above  and  below  now,  and  about  to  start  upon 
her  voyage  ;  but,  while  she  waited,  the  surgeons  and 
nurses  were  at  work.  Ambulances  were  from  time  to 
time  arriving,  bringing  now  many  of  the  fine  black 
fellows  of  Nelson's  regiment,  which  had  passed  the 
great  test  so  well  the  day  before. 

The  attempt  to  storm  Port  Hudson  w^as  unsuccessful ; 
but  something  was  done  then  to  forward  our  cause,  be 
cause  it  was  on  this  day  that  black  soldiers  underwent 
their  ordeal.  Side  by  side  with  white  troops,  they  were 
exposed  to  a  hot  fire,  and  bore  themselves  well.  Col. 


178  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

Higginson,  in  South  Carolina,  has  had  his  men  undei 
fire,  to  be  sure  ;  but  his  fighting  has  been  of  an  irregu 
lar  sort.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  they  were  exposed 
in  a  pitched  battle  ;  and  their  praise  is  in  every  mouth. 
I  am  glad  I  can  write  that  the  wounded  blacks  re 
ceived  all  possible  attention.  They  lay  about  the 
steamer  wherever  it  was  airy  and  pleasant.  The  sur 
geons  were  attentive.  Barclay  poured  out  the  stores 
of  the  Sanitary  and  Christian  Commissions  without 
stint,  and  we  nurses  did  all  we  could.  I  moistened 
many  a  black  fellow's  wound  ;  and  where,  as  sometimes 
happened,  they  were  stripped,  that  the  surgeons  might 
more  readily  reach  their  injuries,  I  adjusted  the  screens 
that  kept  off  insects  and  the  sun.  They  were  never 
otherwise  than  full  of  patience  and  gratitude. 

I  also  washed  the  wounds  and  the  faces  of  the  officers 
at  the  end  of  the  cabin,  and  happened  to  be  on  hand  to 
help  in  a  very  trying  surgical  operation.  I  held  the  leg 

of  the  young  adjutant  while  Dr.  L cut  a  bullet  out 

of  the  bones  of  the  knee,  in  which  it  had  become  deeply 
embedded.  It  was  a  painful  and  critical  operation. 
A  few  days  before,  I  should  have  fainted  at  the  sight ; 
but,  in  such  scenes,  the  sensibilities  become  blunted. 

Every  available  foot  of  space  now  aboard  the  "  Iber 
ville,"  above  and  below,  was  filled  with  wounded  men  ; 
and  four  nurses,  I  for  one,  were  detailed  to  go  with  the 
boat  to  Baton  Rouge.  All  were  fed,  above  and  below. 
We  stood  at  hand  with  wet  sponges  and  cooling  drinks ; 
and,  meantime,  the  steamer  with  her  sad  freight  slipped 
rapidly  down  the  fifteen  miles  to  Baton  Rouge.  Hos- 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL.  179 

pitals  were  prepared  at  the  old  Arsenal  Buildings  ;  and, 
as  the  boat  rounded  to,  the  intrenchments  and  banks 
everywhere  were  crowded  with  people. 

The  boat  was  soon  emptied  of  its  freight.  I  piled  up 
the  beds,  as  they  were  vacated,  on  one  side  of  the  cabin ; 
and  then  had  a  little  leisure  to  go  ashore,  and  see  a 
room  or  two  of  the  permanent  hospital.  They  looked 
neat  and  comfortable.  The  rooms  were  airy ;  the  beds 
clean,  and  protected  by  mosquito-bars  ;  the  patients  soon 
washed,  and  provided  with  food  and  fresh  clothing. 
The  steamer  was  presently  on  her  way  back.  I  man 
aged  to  get  a  good  dinner  aboard  ;  then  spread  a  bed  on 
the  cabin-floor,  and  got  an  hour  or  two  of  welcome  and 
needed  sleep.  I  had  worked  very  hard,  and,  I  believe, 
gained  the  good-will  of  the  surgeons.  Besides,  one  or 
two  old  patients  of  mine,  whom  I  had  nursed  in  typhoid 
fever,  had  been  at  the  landing,  and,  I  believe,  had  spoken 
a  good  word  for  me.  More  and  more  responsibility 
was  put  upon  me. 

As  soon  as  I  had  returned,  the  hospital-steward  told 
me  I  was  to  take  charge  of  removing  a  large  number 
of  wounded  to  the  boat  from  the  tents ,  who  had  been 
brought  down  from  the  field  during  our  trip.  Here 
were  my  negroes,  here  the  nurses  I  could  have,  and 
here  the  stretchers.  I  went  right  to  work.  I  had 
gained  confidence,  found  my  strength  was  good,  and 
therefore  was  not  afraid  to  handle  even  the  worst  cases. 
I  dared  to  take  hold  of  the  stumps  when  it  was  necessary, 
the  pierced  hips,  and  lacerated  shoulders.  I  had  found 
that  a  quick,  steady  movement  caused  the  least  pain. 


180  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

About  dark,  —  this  was  Thursday,  —  the  task  was 
accomplished,  but  only  to  make  room  for  another ;  for 
now  a  longer  string  of  ambulances  than  ever  had  come. 
The  surgeons  had  gone  to  bed  exhausted,  and  could  not 
be  disturbed.  The  hospital-steward  was  not  to  be  found  ; 
and  upon  me  came  the  responsibility  of  getting  them  all 
housed,  fed,  and  cared  for  during  the  night.  I  had  the 
beds  laid  in  as  good  order  as  possible,  working  as  I 
never  worked  before ;  then  superintended,  as  well  as 
I  could,  the  removal  of  the  men  from  the  ambulances 
to  the  pallets  upon  the  ground.  It  seemed  as  if  we 
never  had  received  a  lot  so  dreadfully  mangled :  we 
certainly  never  received  so  many.  With  as  much  de 
spatch  as  possible,  I  assigned  to  each  his  place.  Commis 
sary-teams  were  waiting  for  the  ambulances  to  get  out 
of  the  way ;  and  we  had  almost  to  jump  and  run  among 
the  closely  packed  crowd  on  the  floor,  in  the  dim  candle 
light.  Outsiders,  some  of  them  officers,  came  in,  but 
often  hindered  more  than  they  helped,  by  misplaced 
sensibility,  or  unreasonable  assumption  of  authority. 
The  lightly  wounded  were  to  be  put  in  the  less  acces 
sible  places  under  the  eaves,  as  requiring  least  atten 
tion  ;  the  graver  cases  were  to  have  the  airiest  beds  ; 
and  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  bled  to  death  in  the 
ambulances  had  a  place  assigned  to  them  in  a  tent  out 
side.  Barclay  was  at  my  right  hand  ;  a  good  man  indeed. 
Together  we  took  hasty  counsel  as  to  moving  and  making 
comfortable  the  more  desperately  injured.  How  could 
we  take  hold  here  so  as  not  to  jar  the  shattered  lungs  ? 
and  how,  with  this  heavy,  tall  fellow,  terribly  hurt  in  the 


IN   THE   HOSPITAL.  181 

groin, — how  could  I  get  my  hands  under  the  hips,  so 
as  to  lift  him  most  easily  ?  We  worked  hour  after  hour, 
the  sweat  starting  from  every  pore,  that  hot,  moon-lit 
night,  until  every  inch  of  available  space  was  packed, 
and  all  were  fed. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  regiments  were  represented. 
There  were  officers  of  all  grades.  A  colonel  shot 
through  the  hand ;  a  captain  shot  in  the  neck ;  and 
another,  a  gentleman,  in  the  midst  of  his  suffering, 
his  elegant  dress  dusty  and  gory.  I  was  hoarse  with 
giving  directions  in  the  hubbub,  and  worn  out  with 
want  of  sleep.  Toward  daylight  again,  I  found  a 
place  to  lie  down. 

I  happened  to  lie  down  in  the  tent  where  Barclay 
kept  his  stores  ;  and,  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  he 
was  there.  He  never  appeared  to  need  sleep.  We 
had  an  interesting  half-hour's  talk.  I  told  him  about 
watching  with  the  cannoneer,  whose  whole  body  was 
far  gone  with  decay,  and  full  of  worms,  although  life 
yet  lingered.  Was  it  not  almost  a  barbarity  not  to 
put  him  into  the  final  sleep  ?  Then  came  up  the  case 
of  Napoleon,  and  the  fever  patients  of  his  army  in 
Syria.  They,  too,  were  sick  to  death  ;  sure  to  become 
a  prey  to  the  Turk  :  was  it  so  monstrous  for  him  to 
propose  to  put  them  quickly  and  smoothly  out  of  life  ? 
From  that  we  got  on  to  the  question  of  suicide,  and 
spoke  of  Godwin  and  French  thinkers,  and  of  Epic- 
tetus,  and  sages  of  old,  who  permitted  such  flight 
from  life.  "If  the  house  smokes,  leave  it."  We 
thought  life  was  too  sacred  a  thing  for  man  to 


182  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


touch.  God  gave  it :  let  him  take  it  away,  when  it 
is  time. 

I  got  up  from  the  ground  before  Barclay,  soaked 
with  sweat,  and  with  dust  and  blood  adhering  every 
where.  I  apologized  for  my  appearance  ;  for  it  was  my 
only  shirt.  He  gave  me  another  out  of  the  Sanitary- 
Commission  stores,  in  which  I  once  more  felt  decent. 

This  was  Friday,  —  a  day  much  Eke  the  previous 
ones.  Besides  the  "Iberville,"  there  were  two  or  three 
other  steamers  to  take  the  wounded ;  and,  one  after 
another,  they  went  down  stream  freighted.  During  the 
day,  we  had  a  fine  shower,  which  cooled  the  air.  To 
dress  a  wound  is  no  slight  operation.  To  undo  gaping 
injuries,  wash  them,  stanch  the  blood ;  then  do  them 
up  neatly,  and  feel  they  are  safe,  — all  this,  one  does 
not  reach  at  once. 

My  hospital-service,  however,  was  coming  to  a  close. 
Saturday  morning,  began  to  arrive  the  Fifty-second 
Regiment.  During  the  fortnight  I  had  spent  on  my 
journey,  and  at  Springfield  Landing,  they  had  per 
formed  a  march  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  ;  being 
part  of  the  guard  of  the  immense  train  in  which  the 
negroes  and  a  vast  portion  of  the  wealth  of  the  Teche 
and  Opelousas  neighborhoods  were  brought  to  the  sea 
board.  That  work  had  been  accomplished  ;  and  now, 
at  the  end  of  May,  they  had  been  hurried  up  the  river  to 
re-enforce  the  besieging  army.  Saturday  afternoon, 
when  the  regiment  passed  the  hospital  on  its  way  to  the 
front,  I  bade  Barclay  and  my  old  mates  good-by,  and 
fell  in  with  the  colors  in  my  old  place. 


BATTLE. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

BATTLE. 

JUNE  2,  1863. — Before  Port  Hudson,  within  easy 
cannon-range.  This  morning,  we  are  not  marching  or 
fighting.  We  lie  encamped  in  a  wood,  at  the  edge  of  a 
clearing,  across  whicji  the  rebel  works  are  in  plain  sight, 
at  the  distance  of  a  few  hundred  yards.  '  The  boys, 
who  venture  only  a  few  rods  from  here  to  the  edge  of 
the  clearing,  find  the  shots  of  the  rebel  sharpshooters 
falling  about  them  :  their  shells  frequently  strike  in  and 
about  our  camp.  A  piece  of  one  has  fallen  within  a 
few  yards  of  me,  breaking  three  muskets  out  of  a  stack 
that  stood  in  the  line.  Day  and  night,  our  batteries 
are  firing.  Every  few  minutes,  and  at  times  more  fre 
quently,  the  earth-shaking  roar  of  pieces  of  very  large 
caliber  makes  the  whole  region  tremble.  Hardiker  and 
I  have  built  a  little  booth  of  boughs,  whose  roof  may  be 
taken  off  at  any  moment  by  a  rebel  missile.  Two  or 
three  times  last  night,  the  earth  flew  to  the  right  and 
left  of  the  dead  tree-trunk  at  whose  foot  we  were  rest 
ing. 

June  11.  — We  feel  perfectly  at  home  now  in  these 
woods.  We  were  here  some  days,  once  in  a  while  shift- 


184  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

ing  our  camp  to  avoid  the  shells ;  then  came  the  episode 
of  the  march  to  Clinton  and  back.  I  do  not  mean  to 
write  much  about  this  ;  for  the  readers  and  the  inditer 
of  these  notes  have  had  enough  of  hard  marching.  Let 
these  few  words  suffice.  A  body  of  our  cavalry  had 
been  attacked,  and  very  roughly  handled,  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  this  place  of  Clinton ;  and  Gen.  Paine  was 
sent  out  with  a  force  to  catch  and  chastise  this  body,  if 
possible. 

The  force,  consisting  of  regiments  detached  from  this 
and  that  brigade,  with  some  artillery  and  a  large  body 
of  cavalry,  left  camp  in  the  forest  here  about  four  o'clock 
one  morning.  How  hot  and  dusty  it  grew  !  We  began 
by  taking  the  wrong  road,  which  gave  us  extra  distance 
of  five  or  six  miles ;  then,  in  the  end,  we  went  by  the 
longest  route.  The  first  day,  at  noon,  the  heat  became 
perfectly  intolerable.  Several  were  nearly  killed  by  its 
power,  and  we  were  forced  to  halt  until  night.  Thence 
forth  we  marched  for  the  most  part  at  night ;  but  the 
dust  was  deep,  the  nights  hot,  and  the  water  often  poor. 
At  length,  at  dawn  one  morning,  we  halted  within  two 
or  three  miles  of  Clinton,  to  hear  from  the  cavalry  in 
advance  that  the  foe  had  fled.  Back  we  came,  therefore, 
dragging  wearily  into  our  old  camp  through  all  the  dust 
and  heat,  tired  in  every  bone,  every  fibre  of  clothing 
soaked  and  resoaked  in  perspiration ;  having,  in  the 
course  of  four  days,  gone  some  fifty  or  sixty  miles.  We 
hope  it  was  our  last  march.  God  send  it  may  be  so  ! 
for  it  is  too  much  for  men. 

After  our  return,  we  gave  a  day  or  two  to  grateful 


BATTLE.  185 

rest.  Abundant  rations  were  drawn,  among  them  a 
quantity  of  soft  bread,  —  nothing  but  dry  and  rather 
sour  flour-bread ;  but  how  we  jumped  at  it ! 

We  are  waiting  now  in  the  woods  for  something  else. 
The  sound  of  guns  is  constant  to  us  here ;  and,  at  the 
"  front"  (a  short  walk  from  us),  scarcely  a  minute  passes 
without  a  report :  for  there  you  can  catch  the  cannonade 
of  the  fleet,  and  that  from  the  other  approaches  of  the 
army.  In  the  evening,  from  every  quarter,  can  be  seen 
the  dropping  of  shells  into  the  rebel  works,  —  the  fuses 
of  the  bombs  whirling  through  the  air,  —  and  the  sud 
den  ligh ting-up  of  the  explosions. 

A  formidable  battery  of  ship's  guns  has  opened,  with 
in  a  few  days,  not  far  from  us.  My  first  visit  to  it 
was  in  the  evening.  Bivins  and  I  slung  our  Canteens 
(for  we  never  miss  an  opportunity  of  going  for  water) , 
and  started  down  the  blind,  obstructed  cart-track  which 
leads  out  of  the  woods.  Every  few  minutes  came  in 
the  heavy  crash  of  the  Dahlgrens  we  were  going  to  see ; 
that  and  the  lighter  reports  of  guns  farther  off.  We 
were  soon  out  on  the  plain,  where  the  battery  is  placed. 
To  the  right  of  it  ran  a  hedge ;  behind  which,  screened 
from  the  rebel  riflemen,  lay  a  regiment,  stationed  there 
to  protect  the  guns  against  a  sudden  dash  of  the  enemy. 

It  is  now  quite  dark  ;  but,  in  the  starlight,  we  can  see 
the  outlines  of  the  sand-work,  behind  which  the  guns 
are  ranged.  The  rebel  intrenchments  are,  from  quarter 
to  half  a  mile  away,  in  front  of  us.  We  can  see  three 
or  four  large  fires  burning  within  them.  Volumes  of 
flame  and  smoke  roll  up  among  the  trees,  and  the  sol- 


r  v* ! 

c<>*     J 


186  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

diers  about  us  think  they  can  make  out  the  figures  of 
men  standing  by  the  glare.  As  often  as  once  a  minute, 
from  the  east,  where  lies  a  huge  New-York  battery ;  from 
the  right,  which  Weitzel  holds  ;  or  over  on  the  opposite 
side  from  us,  where  lies  the  fleet  in  the  river,  —  as  often 
as  once  in  a  minute,  like  heat-lightning,  flashes  a  can 
non ;  then,  in  a  few  seconds,  comes  the  roar;  then 
another  light  within  the  fortress,  as  the  shell  explodes. 

Now  a  "  Dahlgren  "  in  our  battery  here  is  discharged. 
How  fierce  and  sullen  !  I  must  have  a  nearer  view  :  so 
I  make  my  way  in  behind  the  earth-work  itself,  and 
stand  with  the  sailors,  who  are  detached  from  duty  on 
ship-board  to  manage  these  great  fellows.  Each  gun 
stands  on  a  broad  platform,  sloping  from  rear  to  front 
to  prevent  the  recoil  of  the  piece  from  sending  it  too  far 
back.  They  are  part  of  the  broadside  of  the  ff  Rich 
mond  ;  "  and  have  already  done  good  service  at  the  tak 
ing  of  the  forts,  and  the  running  of  the  Port-Hudson 
batteries  in  March. 

"Ready  there  at  No.  2  !  "  says  the  officer  in  charge. 
The  crew  of  "  No.  2  "  stand  back,  and  I  brace  myself 
for  the  concussion.  A  sailor  jerks  a  lanyard,  and  it  is 
done.  It  is  no  light  field-piece,  remember  ;  but  one  of 
war's  grimmest  monsters.  "Clash  go  my  teeth  together, 
my  bones  almost  rattle  ;  then  follows  the  hungry,  raven 
ing  shriek  of  the  shell,  which  breaks  forth  like  a  hor 
rible  bird  of  prey  to  devour  the  whole  world.  It  sweeps 
hoarsely  toward  the  enemy's  line ;  then  I  hear  it  go 
"  thud-thud  !  "  through  some  obstruction.  In  a  moment, 
the  air  beyond  is  lit  up  with  its  bursting ;  and  the  sound 


BATTLE.  187 

roars  back  to  us,  —  to  us,  now  enveloped  in  the  sulphur 
ous  cloud  that  wraps  the  whole  neighborhood. 

The  rebels  now  very  seldom  answer  our  artillery. 
Before  we  went  to  Clinton,  occasionally  they  opened  on 
us  with  shell.  If  we  lighted  fires  at  night,  betraying  our 
position  in  the  woods,  presently  we  could  hear  the  shells 
come  humming  toward  the  light  like  great  dor-bugs  of 
a  summer-night.  Hum-m-m  !  then  a  burst,  and  a  dash 
of  heavy  iron,  "thump"  upon  the  ground  in  the  midst  of 
the  camp.  Lately,  however,  there  has  been  no  firing, 
except  by  their  riflemen. 

June  16. — I  write  in  a  corner  of  a  ravine,  close 
within  rifle-range  of  the  works  at  Port  Hudson.  The 
Fifty-second  Regiment  are  holding  an  advanced  position 
here,  and,  ever  since  daylight  of  the  morning  of  the 
14th,  have  lived  in  the  midst  of  a  rain  of  rifle-balls. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  little  ravine,  I  am  secure  ;  but  if  I 
should  put  my  head  up  to  the  surface,  climbing  up  the 
bank  six  or  eight  feet,  I  should  be  in  the  midst  of  flying 
bullets,  and  a  fair  mark  for  the  rebel  sharpshooters  who 
are  close  at  hand.  Our  brigade  is  thrown  out  into  the 
very  teeth  of  the  enemy,  on  ground  our  troops  have  never 
before  occupied.  This  little  corner  is  occupied  by  the 
color-guard.  If  I  go  to  the  company,  I  must  go  stoop 
ing  or  crawling  on  my  stomach  ;  I  must  run  from  a  stump 
to  a  trunk,  and  from  that  to  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  hear 
all  the  time  the  "  zip  "  and  "  hum  "  of  the  rifle-balls. 

We  have  had  a  battle.  Not  quite  a  week  ago,  we 
began  to  hear  of  it.  TSome  of  the  regiments  which  were 
to  be  engaged  were  told  of  it;  and  Gen.  Paine,  who 


188  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

was  to  have  an  important  command,  made  speeches 
among  his  men,  and  instructed  them  in  the  use  of  hand- 
grenades.  In  the  woods,  parties  of  men  were  busy, 
cutting  fascines  ;  and  bags  of  cotton,  as  large  as  a  man 
could  comfortably  carry,  were  piled  up  near  the  ap 
proaches  %to  the  enemy's  works.  We  knew  nothing 
certain,  however,  until  Saturday.  (It  is  now  Tuesday.) 
Toward  the  end  of  that  afternoon,  the  explicit  orders 
came.  The  assault  was  to  be  made  the  next  morning, 
and  our  regiment  was  to  have  a  share  in  it.  We  were 
not  to  go  home  without  the  baptism  of  fire  and  blood. 

Before  dark,  we  were  ordered  into  line,  and  stacked 
our  arms.  Each  captain  made  a  little  speech.  "  No 
talking  in  the  ranks  ;  no  flinching.  Let  every  one  see 
that  his  canteen  is  full,  and  that  he  has  hard  bread 
enough  for  a  day.  That  is  all  you  will  carry  beside  gun 
and  equipments."  We  left  the  guns  in  stack,  polished, 
and  ready  to  be  caught  on  the  instant ;  and  lay  down 
under  the  trees.  At  midnight  came  the  cooks  with  cof 
fee  and  warm  food.  Soon  after  came  the  order  to  move  ; 
then,  slowly  and  with  many  halts,  nearly  four  hundred 
strong,  we  took  up  our  route  along  the  wood-paths. 
Many  other  regiments  were  also  in  motion.  The  forest 
was  full  of  Rembrandt  pictures,  —  a  bright  blaze  under 
a  tree,  the  faces  and  arms  of  soldiers  all  aglow  about  it ; 
the  wheel  of  an  army-wagon,  or  the  brass  of  a  cannon,  lit 
up  ;  then  the  gloom  of  the  wood,  and  the  night  shutting 
down  about  it. 

At  length,  it  was  daybreak ;  -and,  with  every  new 
shade  of  light  in  the  east,  a  new  degree  of  energy  was 


BATTLE.  189 

imparted  to  the  cannonade.  As  we  stood  at  the  edge 
of  the  wood,  it  was  roar  on  all  sides.  In  a  few  minutes, 
we  were  in  motion  again.  We  crossed  a  little  bridge 
over  a  brook  thickly  covered  with  cotton  to  conceal  the 
tramp  of  men,  and  noise  of  wheels  ;  climbed  a  steep  pitch, 
and  entered  a  trench  or  military  road  cut  through  a 
ravine,  passing  some  freshly  made  rifle-pits  and  bat 
teries.  We  were  now  only  screened  from  the  rebel 
works  by  a  thin  hedge.  Here  the  rifle-balls  began  to 
cut  keen  and  sharp  through  the  air  about  us ;  and  the 
cannonade,  as  the  east  now  began  to  redden,  reached  its 
height,  —  a  continual  deafening  uproar,  hurling  the  air 
against  one  in  great  waves,  till  it  felt  almost  like  a  wall 
of  rubber,  bounding  and  rebounding  from  the  body,  — 
the  great  guns  of  the  "Kichmond,"  the  siege-Parr otts, 
the  smaller  field-batteries  ;  and,  through  all,  the  burst 
ing  of  the  shells  within  the  rebel  lines,  and  the  keen, 
deadly  whistle  of  well-aimed  bullets.  A  few  rods  down 
the  military  road,  the  column  paused.  The  work  of 
death  had  begun ;  for  ambulance-men  were  bringing 
back  the  wounded :  and,  almost  before  we  had  time  to 
think  we  were  in  danger,  I  saw  one  of  our  men  fall 
back  into  the  arms  of  his  comrades,  shot  dead  through 
the  chest.  The  banks  of  the  ravine  rose  on  either  side 
of  the  road  in  which  we  had  halted :  but  just  here  the 
trench  made  a  turn ;  and  in  front,  at  the  distance  of  five 
or  six  hundred  yards,  we  could  plainly  see  the  rebel 
rampart,  red  in  the  morning-light  as  with  blood,  and 
shrouded  in  white  vapor  along  the  edge  as  the  sharp 
shooters  behind  kept  up  an  incessant  discharge.  I 


190  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

believe  I  felt  no  sensation  of  fear,  nor  do  I  think  those 
about  me  did.  Wilson  and  Hardiker  carried  the  flags, 
and  their  faces  were  cheerful  and  animated.  I  thanked 
God  that  Sunday  morning  that  I  was  in  perfect  strength 
in  every  limb  for  that  day's  most  solemn  service,  —  ser 
vice  not  to  be  rendered  in  any  peaceful  temple,  but  amid 
grime  of  powder,  and  sweat  of  blood  :  nevertheless  His 
service,  and  that  which  should  bring  about  for  Him  the 
acceptable  things. 

Our  brigadier  is  with  us  at  the  front ;  and  now,  call 
ing  the  colonel,  the  two  soldierly  figures  climb  the  bank 
of  the  ravine,  and  take  a  narrow  survey  of  the  ground. 
In  a  moment,  the  order  comes.  We  are  to  move  up 
this  rough  path  to  the  right,  then  advance  out  from  the 
shelter  of  the  trees  into  the  open  space  before  the  fortifi 
cations  ;  deploying  as  skirmishers  meanwhile,  and  mak 
ing  our  way  through  the  fire  to  a  closer  position.  We 
climb  up  the  path.  I  go  with  my  rifle  between  Wilson 
and  Hardiker  ;  keeping  nearest  the  former,  who  carries 
the  national  flag.  In  a  minute  or  two,  the  column  has 
ascended,  and  is  deploying  in  a  long  line,  under  the 
colonel's  eye,  on  the  open  ground.  The  rebel  engineers 
are  most  skilful  fellows.  Between  us  and  the  brown 
earth-heap  which  we  are  to  try  to  gain  to-day,  the  space 
is  not  wide ;  but  it  is  cut  up  in  every  direction  with  ra 
vines  and  gullies.  These  were  covered,  until  the  para 
pet  was  raised,  with  a  heavy  growth  of  timber  ;  but  now 
it  has  all  been  cut  down,  so  that  in  every  direction  the 
fallen  tops  of  large  trees  interlace,  trunks  block  up  every 
passage,  and  brambles  are  growing  over  the  whole.  It 


BATTLE.  191 

is  out  of  the  question  to  advance  here  in  line  of  battle ; 
it  seems  almost  out  of  the  question  to  advance  in  any 
order  :  but  the  word  is  given,  "Forward  ! "  and  on  we  go. 
Know  that  this  whole  space  is  swept  by  a  constant  patter 
of  balls  :  it  is  really  a  "  leaden  rain."  We  go  crawling 
and  stooping :  but  now  and  then  before  us  rises  in 
plain  view  the  line  of  earth-works,  smoky  and  sulphur 
ous  with  volleys  ;  while  all  about  us  fall  the  balls,  now 
sending  a  lot  of  little  splinters  from  a  stump,  now  knock 
ing  the  dead  wood  out  of  the  old  tree-trunk  that  is  shel 
tering  me,  now  driving  up  a  cloud  of  dust  from  a  little 
knoll,  or  cutting  off  the  head  of  a  weed  just  under  the 
hand  as  with  an  invisible  knife.  I  see  one  of  our  best 
captains  carried  off  the  field,  mortally  wounded,  shot 
through  both  lungs,  —  straight,  bright-eyed,  though  so 
sadly  hurt,  supported  by  two  of  his  men ;  and  now 
almost  at  my  side,  in  the  color-company,  one  soldier  is 
struck  in  the  hand,  and  another  in  the  leg.  "Forward  ! " 
is  the  order.  We  all  stoop ;  but  the  colonel  does  not 
stoop  :  he  is  as  cool  as  he  was  in  his  tent  last  night, 
when  I  saw  him  drink  iced  lemonade.  He  turns  now 
to  examine  the  ground,  then  faces  back  again  to  direct 
the  advance  of  this  or  that  flank.  Wilson  springs  on 
from  cover  to  cover,  and  I  follow  close  after  him.  It  is 
hard  work  to  get  the  flag  along  :  it  cannot  be  carried  in 
the  air ;  and  we  drag  it  and  pass  it  from  hand  to  hand 
among  the  brambles,  much  to  the  detriment  of  its  folds. 
The  line  pauses  a  moment.  Capt.  Morton,  who  has 
risen  from  a  sick-bed  to  be  with  his  command,  is  coolly 
cautioning  his  company.  The  right  wing  is  to  remain 


192  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

in  reserve,  while  the  left  pushes  still  farther  forward. 
The  major  is  out  in  front  of  us  now.  He  stands  upon 
a  log  which  bridges  a  ravine,  —  a  plain  mark  for  the 
sharpshooters,  who  overlook  the  position,  not  only  from 
the  parapet,  but  from  the  tall  trees  within  the  rebel 
works.  Presently  we  move  on  again,  through  brambles 
and  under  charred  trunks,  tearing  our  way,  and  pulling 
after  us  the  colors  ;  creeping  on  our  bellies  across  ex 
posed  ridges,  where  bullets  hum  and  sing  like  stinging 
bees  ;  and,  right  in  plain  view,  the  ridge  of  earth,  its 
brow  white  with  incessant  volleys. 

Down  this  slope,  and  it  will  do.  The  color-guard  is 
some  rods  in  advance  of  the  company,  and  may  pause. 
I  hear  cheering.  A  ridge  hides  the  space  in  front  of 
the  works  from  which  it  comes  ;  and  I  tell  Wilson  I 
must  creep  up,  and  see  the  charge. 

"  Better  not,"  he  says.  M  We  will  go  where  our  duty 
lies  ;  but  we  had  better  run  no  risk  beyond  that." 

He  is  wiser  than  I.  While  he  speaks,  I  have  par 
tially  raised  myself  to  climb  forward  to  the  point  of 
view.  Balls  are  striking  close  by  me.  I  have  become 
a  mark  to  sharpshooters  in  the  trees,  and  lie  down  again 
to  be  safe.  The  color-guard  are  under  orders  not  to 
fire,  except  when  the  colors  are  especially  threatened. 
My  piece  is  loaded  and  capped ;  but  I  can  only  be  shot 
at,  without  returning  the  discharge.  Oown  into  our 
little  nook  now  come  tumbling  a  crowd  of  disorganized, 
panting  men.  They  are  part  of  a  New- York  regiment, 
who,  on  the  crest  just  over  us,  have  been  meeting  with 
very  severe  loss.  They  say  their  dead  and  dying  are 


BATTLE.  193 

heaped  up  there.  We  believe  it ;  for  we  can  hear  them, 
they  are  so  near :  indeed,  some  of  those  who  come 
stumbling  down  are  wounded ;  some  have  their  gun- 
stocks  broken  by  shot,  and  the  barrels  bent,  while  they 
are  unharmed.  They  are  frightened  and  exhausted,  and 
stop  to  recover  themselves ;  but  presently  their  officers 
come  up,  and  order  them  forward  again.  From  time 
to  time,  afterwards,  wounded  men  crawl  back  from  their 
position  a  few  yards  in  front  of  where  we  are,  —  one 
shot  through  the  ankles,  who,  however,  can  crawl  on 
his  hands  and  knees ;  one  in  the  hand ;  one  with  his 
blouse  all  torn  about  his  breast,  where  a  ball  has  struck 
him,  yet  he  can  creep  away.  Looking  up  toward  the 
top  of  our  little  ravine,  I  had  seen  Company  D  climb 
ing  forward ;  the  well-known  heads  and  faces  coming 
into  sight  for  the  moment  as  they  climbed  over  an 
obstruction,  then  going  down  again  into  the  bushes, 
—  Wivers  active  as  a  squirrel ;  McGill  with  his  old 
black  hat  pulled  down  about  his  ears,  as  if  it  were 
a  snowstorm  he  was  out  in.  They  disappear ;  but 
soon  I  see  the  head  of  Bivins  making  rapid  way  back 
ward. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Bivins?" 
"  "  Sergt.  Rogers  is  shot." 

"Killed?" 

"  No  :  through  the  thigh,  well  up  ;  but,  we  think,  not 
fatally.  I  am  going  for  a  stretcher." 

"  Look  out  for  yourself  meantime  !  "  I  shout  to  him  ; 
thinking  of  his  bright  young  wife  and  little  boy,  who 
would  come  to  sad  grief  enough,  if  that  honest  head, 

9 


194  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

appearing  and  disappearing  among  the  tangled  thickets, 
should  be  brought  low  by  a  rebel  marksman. 

It  is  now  noon  and  after.  The  sun  is  intolerably  hot, 
and  we  have  no  sufficient  shade.  That,  however,  is 
nothing  for  us  who  are  unhurt ;  but  we  hear  of  poor 
wounded  men  lying  without  shelter,  among  them  Gen. 
Paine,  whom  the  ambulance-men  cannot  yet  reach  on 
account  of  the  enemy's  fire.  We  begin  to  know  that 
the  attack  has  failed.  Toward  the  end  of  the  after 
noon,  at  considerable  risk,  I  make  my  way  to  Company 
D.  They  are  on  the  brow  of  an  eminence,  on  a  flat 
plateau,  just  even  with  the  rebel  gun-barrels,  almost 
without  shelter ;  all  lying  flat  on  their  backs  and 
stomachs,  the  flying  balls  keeping  up  a  constant  drone 
and  hum  just  above  them.  Rogers  ventured  to  stand 
up,  and  was  shot  almost  at  once.  The  men  told  how 
they  had  looked  over  the  hill-brow,  and  seen  the  charge, 
—  the  fruitless  dash  at  the  impenetrable  obstacles, — 
the  volley  from  the  breastworks,  the  fall  of  scores. 
We  know  nothing  certainly.  There  are  rumors,  thick 
as  the  rifle-balls,  of  this  general  killed,  that  regiment 
destroyed,  and  successful  attempts  elsewhere.  The  sun 
goes  down  on  this  day  of  blood.  We  have  lost  several 
killed,  and  several  more  wounded,  and  have  done  all 
we  were  called  upon  to  do.  The  colonel  tells  us  we 
have  been  cool,  prudent,  and  brave.  We  have  not 
been  as  much  exposed  as  some  other  regiments,  and 
our  loss  has  not  been  large.  The  fire,  however,  seemed 
very  hot,  and  close  at  hand ;  and  the  wonder  to  us  all 
is,  that  no  more  fell.  Darkness  settles  down  ;  shots  are 


BATTLE.  195 

received  and  returned,  but  only  at  random  now ;  and, 
ever  and  anon,  from  the  batteries  goes  tearing  through 
the  air  a  monstrous  shell,  with  a  roar  like  a  rushing 
railroad-train,  then  an  explosion  putting  every  thing 
for  the  moment  in  light. 

At  dusk,  I  creep  back  to  the  ravine,  where  I  am  to 
sleep.  I  have  been  awake  since  midnight,  and  almost 
every  moment  since  has  been  one  of  excitement ;  first 
the  anticipation,  then  the  reality,  of  a  pitched  battle. 
What  a  day  for  these  remote  plains  and  woods  !  The 
little  frightened  birds  I  have  seen  fly  to  and  fro,  pain 
fully  shaken,  I  must  believe,  in  their  delicate  frames  by 
the  concussion  of  the  air  during  the  cannon  volleys ;  for 
I  have  felt  it  sensibly.  So  the  green,  harmless  lizards, 
whose  beauty  and  lithesome  movement  I  have  loved  to 
watch,  — these  I  have  seen  to-day,  when  I  have  looked 
up  from  my  covert,  peering  about  curiously,  and  run 
ning  to  and  fro  to  find  out  the  occasion  of  this  uproar 
and  jar,  so  suddenly  come  to  disturb  their  haunts.  For 
food  to-day,  I  have  had  two  or  three  hard  crackers  and 
cold  potatoes.  We  have  no  blankets  :  so  down  I  lie  to 
sleep  as  I  can  on  the  earth,  without  covering ;  and, 
before  morning,  am  chilled  through  with  the  dew  and 
coldness  of  the  air. 


196  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE   WOLF   AT   BAY. 

OUR  brigade  is  thrown  forward,  as  Gen.  Banks  says, 
"upon  the  threshold  of  the  enemy's  fortifications,"  and 
have  it  for  their  duty  to  maintain  an  incessant  skirmish, 
day  and  night,  with  those  sharp-eyed  fellows  just  oppo 
site. 

Monday  the  heat  is  intense,  and  we  have  but  little 
shelter.  I  fare  hard ;  for  I  must  draw  rations  with 
my  company,  and  yet  must  remain  with  the  colors, 
which  are  still  in  the  ravine.  Toward  the  evening  of 
Monday,  I  work  my  way  out  to  our  cooks.  One 
must  go'  cautiously,  stooping  and  creeping,  and,  when 
the  balls  whistle  sharp,  hiding  till  the  riflemen  look 
some  other  way.  I  gain,  at  length,  the  shelter  of  the 
woods  behind,  where  lie  unburied  dead  from  the  field, 
and  piles  of  stretchers  yet  bloody  with  their  burdens 
of  wounded  men.  Each  one  of  the  color-guard  to 
night  must  watch.  My  watch  is  at  midnight.  I  pro 
fess  to  love  Nature,  and  in  that  love  "hold  communion 
with  her  visible  forms."  "  For  my  gayer  hours,"  I  have 
indeed  found  that  she  has  a  "  voice  of  gladness."  To 
night,  my  musings  are  darker.  Certainly,  O  outer 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  197 

world !  with  a  smile  and  deep  eloquence  of  beauty  do 
you  glide  into  the  soldier's  musings,  and  steal  away 
their  sharpness. 

I  climbed  up  from  the  ravine,  and  sat  alone,  upon  the 
hill  on  the  field,  under  the  starlight.  It  was  a  sweet 
night,  and  only  once  or  twice  came  to  my  sense  the 
taint  of  unburied  slain.  For  the  rest,  all  was  pure. 
In  a  half-comic  way,  the  whippoorwill  changed  his  song 
into  "Whipped  you  well,  whipped  you  well!"  I  will 
never  believe  the  bull-frogs  that  night  croaked  any  thing 
but  "Rebs,  rebs  ! "  and  the  jeering  owls  hooted  out 
from  the  tree-tops,  "What  can  you  do-o-o?"  All 
about  the  horizon,  fringing  the  starlit  space  of  blue, 
a  storm  was  gathering;  and  behind  the  black  clouds 
shook  the  lightning,  like  the  menacing  finger  of  an 
almighty  power  threatening  doom  to  this  obstinate 
stronghold.  'Twas  like  that,  and  'twas  like  the  vision 
seen,  in  days  of  romance,  by  King  Arthur,  —  the  sword 
"Excalibur"  brandished  by  the  phantom  arm  out  of 
the  lake. 

June  17.  — We  are  still  in  the  front  of  the  advance, 
living  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  maintaining  our 
incessant  skirmish,  and  occasionally  losing  men  from  the 
regiment.  We  go  unwashed,  uncombed,  unshaven, 
creeping  and  stooping,  with  no  baggage  but  the  clothes 
on  our  backs,  and  they  torn  everywhere  by  brambles,  and 
sometimes  by  shot.  My  only  portfolio  now  is  my  car 
tridge-box,  where  I  find  room  for  a  few  sheets,  and  my 
pencil,  among  my  sixty  rounds,  writing  my  record  upon 
its  broad  leathern  flap.  This  afternoon,  there  has  been  a 


198  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

flag  of  truce  ;  during  which  they  have  buried  dead,  and 
even  removed  wounded  men,  who  have  lain  on  the  field 
since  Sunday  !  It  is  now  Wednesday.  Company  D 
has  assisted  in  burying  a  hundred  and  fourteen  corpses. 
I  have  just  seen  Cyrus  Stowell,  who  tells  me  a  terrible 
story.  The  decomposition  of  the  bodies  was  so  ad 
vanced,  that  the  flesh  slipped  from  the  arms  as  our 
men  tried  to  raise  them,  the  heads  fell  away  from  the 
trunks  sometimes,  and  the  worms  crawled  from  the  dead 
upon  the  hands  of  the  living  !  Unspeakably  dreadful ! 

The  rebels  now  use  little  artillery  against  us,  but 
mostly  rifles.  Tremendous  fellows  they  are.  During 
the  flag  of  truce  this  afternoon,  plenty  of  them  have  been 
in  plain  sight — slovenly-looking  butternuts  —  about  the 
few  tents  and  clumps  of  old  buildings  inside  their  para 
pet,  and,  indeed,  in  the  open  space  between  the  two 
armies. 

I  have  written  about  the  assault  of  the  14th  inst. 
Never  come  to  a  private  soldier  to  pass  judgment  on  a 
military  act ;  for  his  horizon  is  too  circumscribed  to  com 
prehend  the  circumstances.  But  the  judgment  of  us, 
the  rank  and  file,  upon  the  matter,  is  this, — let  it  go 
for  what  it  is  worth,  —  that  the  men  did  their  part :  they 
showed  willingness  and  bravery,  but  it  was  misdirected. 
On*-  men  could  see  the  charging  regiments  begin  their 
rush,  way  back  by  an  old  chimney  to  our  left  here,  — 
too  far,  too  far,  by  a  long  distance,  considering  the 
difficult  nature  of  the  ground  to  be  traversed.  We 
heard  the  poor  fellows'  cheers  as  they  started ;  but  the 
rebs  heard  it  too,  and  could  be  seen  rushing;  to  the 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  199 

point  of  their  works,  against  which  the  assaulting  regi 
ments  were  to  dash.  Their  attention  was  attracted  by 
our  unnecessary  demonstrations,  and  our  men  received 
more  terrible  volleys.  The  result  was,  about  fifteen 
hundred  lost  to  us,  by  the  last  accounts. 

We  advanced  in  the  battle  as  skirmishers,  as  I  have 
written ;  and  when  the  roar  and  heat  were  over,  and  the 
tide  of  Federal  energy  and  valor  had  ebbed  again  from 
off  the  field,  —  leaving  it  wet  with  red  pools,  and  strewn 
with  bloody  drift,  — it  was  given  to  our  brigade  to  stay 
in  our  steps,  to  hold  the  tangled  ravines  and  slopes 
we  had  conquered,  under  the  daily  and  nightly  volleys 
of  the  Mississippi,  Alabama,  and  Arkansas  regiments, 
who,  we  hear,  hold  the  breast- work  in  our  front. 
Now  and  then  we  lose  a  man,  killed  or  wounded ;  but 
we  believe  our  loss  would  have  been  quadrupled,  were 
it  not  that  our  colonel  has  handled  his  command  so 
prudently  and  skilfully. 

So  far,  my  hands  have  no  stain  of  human  blood  upon 
them.  Our  rifles  are  always  close  at  hand,  loaded,  to 
be  ready  against  any  sortie,  or  if  we  should  suddenly 
have  to  charge.  The  regiment,  generally,  have  prac 
tised  much  against  the  sand-bags  and  loop-holes  of  the 
enemy's  parapet ;  but  we  do  not  fire  until  some  hostile 
hand  seems  likely  to  get  the  flag  out  of  Wilson's  grasp. 

Until  within  a  day  or  two,  my  situation  has  been 
hard.  I  draw  my  rations  »with  Company  D,  and  they 
have  been  posted  at  some  distance  from  the  ravine  of 
the  color-guard.  I  could  not  always  go  for  my  food 
at  the  right  time,  —  sometimes  could  not  go  at  all :  at 


200  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

any  rate,  it  was  always  at  a  risk ;  for  the  only  path  waa 
the  obstructed,  bullet-swept  track  leading  from  our 
ravine  to  the  woods  in  the  rear.  Irregularity  in  eating, 
abstinence,  exposure  to  the  heat  of  burning  days  and 
the  night-damps,  have  rather  affected  my  condition. 
To  the  sights  of  war  we  have  all  become  used,  and  can 
see  the  worst  without  sickening.  Every  day,  gaping 
wounds  and  mangled  death  are  borne  past  us,  on 
stretchers,  out  of  the  rifle-pits  and  trenches.  The  sur 
geons  and  chaplain  remain  at  the  old  camp  in  the 
woods  which  we  left  the  midnight  preceding  the  as 
sault,  and  that  has  become  a  city  of  refuge  for  the  sick. 
One  tired  boy  after  another  has  gone  there,  from  the 
heat  and  damp  at  the  front,  until  the  companies  have 
grown  smaller  than  ever.  The  march  from  the  Cour- 
tableau  to  Brashear  City  brought  down  numbers. 
Numbers  have  fallen  sick  here,  so  that  our  company 
has  scarcely  more  than  twenty  on  duty  ;  and  other  com 
panies  are  nearly  as  much  reduced. 

Though  we  are  sick  and  worn,  the  general  is  deter 
mined  we  shall  work  while  we  remain.  Early,  Satur 
day  the  20th,  just  before  daylight,  word  came  to  us 
to  march ;  whither,  we  knew  not.  We  stole  out  qui 
etly,  so  as  not  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  enemy ; 
and  marched  to  the  general's  head-quarters,  some  three 
miles  in  our  rear.  It  turned  out  that  a  train  of  one 
hundred  and  forty  wagons  was  going  into  the  country 
for  forage.  We  were  to  be  its  escort ;  and,  while  we 
stood  in  line,  two  pieces  of  light  artillery  and  a  body  of 
cavalry  came  up,  who  were  to  help  us. 


THE    WOLF   AT    BAY.  201 

On  any  large  map,  a  short  distance  from  Port  Hud 
son,  to  the  north-east,  you  will  see  a  little  village  called 
Jackson.  It  was  near  that  village  that  we  halted  at 
noon.  Here  two  well-travelled  roads  crossed  each 
other,  near  which  were  situated  the  two  plantations 
from  which  the  forage  was  to  be  taken.  The  colonel 
rode  out  to  see  the  barns,  and  to  post  his  guards  to 
prevent  surprise.  We  stacked  arms  near  the  crossing 
of  the  roads,  and  went  into  the  shade  close  by  to  eat 
our  scanty  dinner.  We  found  we  had  come  to  a  pleas 
ant  region.  The  land  rolled  up  into  fine  swells,  which 
had  been  cleared  of  forest  in  great  part,  giving  place  to 
wide-spreading  corn-fields,  where  the  corn  was  already 
tall,  and  with  ears  large  and  well  filled  out.  The  land 
scape  had  a  rich,  cultivated  aspect ;  looking  not  unlike 
a  farming  region  in  New  York  in  August. 

The  colonel  soon  made  his  dispositions.  Half  a  mile 
to  the  left,  half  the  train  of  wagons  waited  their  turn 
to  load  up  ;  their  white  tops  in  plain  view  across  the 
intervening  fields.  To  the  right,  about  the  same  dis 
tance  from  us,  the  remainder  of  the  train  stood  upon 
another  farm.  We  had  just  begun  to  open  our  haver 
sacks,  when  "  crack,  crack  !  "  we  began  to  hear  a  heavy 
volley  of  rifle-shots.  The  Philistines  were  upon  us.  In 
an  instant  came  the  summons,  "Battalion!"  and  we 
flew  to  our  pieces.  Pickets  came  galloping  in  from  the 
outposts.  The  story  is,  that  two  rebel  regiments  and 
a  body  of  horse  bivouacked  the  night  before  at  the  farm 
on  the  right,  where  the  teams  are  loading.  The  artillery 
men  are  at  their  pieces  ;  and  all  over  the  field,  to  the 

9* 


202  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

skirts  of  the  distant  woods,  squads  of  cavalry  are  seen 
on  the  gallop,  —  most  of  them  Grierson's  famous  men. 
Presently  the  wagons  come  back  in  the  wildest  confu 
sion,  pell-mell,  helter-skelter.  The  mules  are  in  full 
gallop,  some  with,  some  without  drivers ;  over  ditches 
and  fences,  crash  through  groves  of  young  pines,  over 
logs  and  stumps.  Sometimes  the  body  is  jarred  off 
the  wheels ;  sometimes  one  mule  has  broken  loose, 
leaving  three  behind,  with  the  broken  harness  dragging 
about  them.  The  negro-drivers  yell,  and  brandish 
their  whips.  All  is  perfect  uproar  and  panic. 

The  enemy  appear  in  considerable  numbers,  swarm 
ing  about  the  house  and  barns  of  a  plantation.  From  a 
little  knoll,  close  by  our  position,  the  artillery  open 
a  brisk  fire  of  shell  upon  them,  which  does  them  great 
damage,  and  throws  them  into  as  much  disorder  as  the 
wagons  they  have  sought  to  seize.  Two  of  our  com 
panies,  thrown  out  as  skirmishers,  keep  up  a  firing  of 
rifles, — the  colonel,  meantime,  on  the  knoll,  close  at 
hand  to  the  battery,  and  the  main  body  of  the  regiment, 
which  is  supporting  it,  is  surrounded  by  cavalry-men 
and  officers,  who  gallop  up  and  away  every  instant. 
His  face  has  as  cool  and  pleasant  a  look  as  ever,  — the 
calm  and  undisturbed  spot  in  the  midst  of  the  panic. 
We  stand  leaning  on  our  pieces,  ready  for  any  thing 
that  may  turn  up. 

Wouvermans,  the  old  Dutch  painter,  used  to  take 
battles  for  his  favorite  subjects.  I  have  looked  over 
plates  after  his  pictures  ;  and  this  scene  was  precisely 
one  of  Wouvermans'  skirmishes,  — the  same  confusion 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  203 

and  panic,  a  similar  landscape,  a  lovely  summer's  day, 
and  the  encounter  in  the  midst ;  infantry  skirmishing, 
cavalry  charging  with  drawn  sabres,  the  snap  of  rifles 
from  the  distant  woods,  the  rush  of  animals  and  fugi 
tives  to  get  out  of  danger.  It  was  soon  over.  Some 
eight  or  ten  fell  on  our  side  among  the  cavalry ;  and  we 
have  heard  that  a  considerably  larger  number  of  the 
enemy  were  slain  by  the  cannon.  These  were  extremely 
well  served,  and  probably  saved  us  from  being  over 
powered  by  a  superior  force. 

The  colonel  judged  it  prudent  to  return  at  once.  A 
few  of  the  wagons  had  had  time  to  load ;  some  were 
broken,  some  had  gone  galloping  on  toward  the  Fede 
ral  camp.  The  outposts  were  recalled,  and  we  took 
up  a  backward  line  of  march.  We  had  proceeded  five 
or  six  miles  ;  when  suddenly  it  was  "  halt "  again,  and 
word  came  back  that  the  column  was  beset  front  and 
rear.  Of  the  infantry,  four  men  were  detailed  for  a 
guard  to  each  wagon ;  while  the  cavalry  and  cannon 
hastened  forward  to  the  front,  from  which  we  began  to 
hear  firing.  It  looked  critical.  Our  term  of  service 
was  within  three  weeks  of  its  expiration,  and  we  were 
all  in  danger  of  being  taken  prisoners.  The  impertur 
bable  colonel  rides  along  with  cavalry  and  battery 
officers.  "  Can  we  not  get  a  courier  in  for  re-enforce 
ments  ? "  I  hear  one  say.  "  We  shall  be  enough  for 
them,  I  guess,  if  we  can  only  concentrate."  We  all 
feel  confidence,  make  sure  of  our  guns,  put  on  fresh 
caps,  and  leave  the  hammer  at  half-cock.  Then  we  go 
forward,  and  that  is  the  last  of  it. 


204  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

In  the  evening  at  ten  o'clock,  after  we  are  in  the 
camp  once  more  in  a  grove  of  trees,  I  hear  the  colonel 
give  results.  It  seems  the  rebs  did  capture  some  sixty 
of  our  wagons  in  the  last  attack.  Their  drivers  were 
frightened,  and  had  not  obeyed  orders.  Moreover,  the 
cavalry  were  unmanageable  ;  and  mules  and  wagons  fell 
an  easy  prey,  when  a  smart  body  of  rebs  dashed  out  of 
an  ambuscade,  and  swept  like  a  whirlwind  through  our 
long,  straggling  line.  They  had  nothing  to  match 
our  cannon.  If  it  had  not  been  for  them,  we  might  all 
have  been  on  the  way  to  Richmond. 

Tired  to  death,  almost  worn  out  to  start  with,  cov 
ered  with  a  paste  of  perspiration  and  dust,  it  was  hard 
to  be  waked  up  at  midnight,  just  after  we  had  fallen 
asleep,  and  be  marched  right  back  again  into  the  trenches 
and  rifle-pits,  to  press  on  the  siege. 

June  25. — The  next  day, —  Sunday,  —  when  we 
found  life  enough  to  open  our  dust-filled  eyes  and  crawl 
about  a  little,  we  found  the  engineers,  during  the  pre 
vious  twenty-four  hours,  had  been  pushing  matters. 
Just  by  us  here  is  a  bank,  covered  with  trees  and 
bushes,  and  really  very  much  exposed  to  the  enemy's 
fire.  We  often  venture  to  pause,  however,  in  the 
brush,  and  look  at  their  earthworks,  which  can  be  seen 
from  this  point  to  advantage.  Here  I  stopped  on  Sun 
day,  and  saw  to  my  surprise,  on  a  hill  just  opposite  the 
enemy,  that  a  deep,  broad  trench  had  been  run  within  a 
few  rods  of  them.  In  the  sap  were  negroes  digging  it 
on  still  closer ;  and  a  company  of  infantry,  returning, 
close  at  hand,  the  fire  of  the  rebs.  While  I  was  taking 


THE    WOLF   AT   BAY.  205 

my  observations,  suddenly  Bivlns  turned  up  at  the  foot 
of  the  bank,  cutting  poles  to  pitch  his  shelter-tent  with  ; 
and  from  him  I  learned  that  it  was  no  other  than  our 
old  Company  D  that  I  could  see  loading  and  firing ; 
pushed  up,  to  say  the  least,  among  the  very  whiskers 
about  this  old  lion's  active  and  well-armed  jaws. 

You  shall  go  with  me  into  this  outmost  sap,  and 
know  what  sights  and  sounds  it  is  our  business  now  to 
be  familiar  with.  Into  this  sap  I  am  obliged  to  go  three 
times  a  day  for  my  rations,  out  of  the  retreat  of  the 
colors.  First  we  must  creep  out  of  our  ravine,  through 
the  top  of  this  prostrate  tree,  whose  boughs  catch  our 
clothing  ;  then  up  by  the  charred  trunk,  the  feet  slipping 
in  the  mud.  Your  head  now  comes  within  the  range 
of  riflemen  in  the  trees  over  there.  Sometimes  they  are 
in  the  trees,  though  not  always.  A  few  steps  more,  and 
we  come  within  full  range  from  the  parapet ;  but  do  not 
stop  to  look.  Stoop  as  low  as  you  can,  and  run.  This 
stump  will  shelter  you  ;  pitted  with  the  striking  of  balls 
against  it,  as  if  it  had  the  small-pox  when  a  sapling. 
When  you  have  caught  your  breath,  run  for  that  trunk, 
It  is  an  ugly  one  to  get  over ;  for  it  is  breast-high, 
and  one's  whole  body  has  to  come  into  the  enemy's  view. 
Once  over  this,  and  the  road  is  smoother.  We  soon 
gain  the  cover  of  the  woods,  and  are  comparatively  safe. 
The  other  day,  I  was  twice  shot  at  while  passing  the 
space  we  have  just  been  over.  I  do  not  know  how  near 
the  bullets  came ;  only  the  first  seemed  as  if  it  were 
sweeping  my  legs  off  at  the  knee  with  its  sharp  rush. 
I  stooped,  and  labored  through  the  brush ;  when  the 


206  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

second  came  cold  along  the  length  of  my  spine,  just 
above  the  vertebrae.  We  are  to  have  a  better  road, 
however.  One  of  Company  E  has  just  been  shot  through 
the  head  —  dead  in  an  instant  —  here,  and  we  are  to 
have  a  protected  passage-way. 

Down  this  little  gully,  and  we  enter  the  beginning  of 
the  sap,  at  the  end  of  the  military  road.  Behind  the 
angle,  just  back  there,  is  the  station  of  the  ambulance 
men.  They  wait  there,  day  and  night,  with  stretchers 
ready.  These  stretchers  are  now  all  blood-stained. 
Three  or  four  a  day,  out  of  the  brigade  and  working- 
party,  are  carried  out.  The  ambulance-corps  is  made 
up  largely  of  the  musicians  :  but  music  !  we  never  hear 
it  now,  not  even  the  drum  and  fife.  It  is  too  stern  a 
time  for  that. 

We  pass  out  into  the  sap.  Here  is  the  most  danger 
ous  point  of  all,  just  at  the  entrance,  where  the  first  man 
from  our  regiment  was  killed  the  day  of  the  assault. 
You  see  how  the  rebel  parapet  commands  it.  We  are 
going  considerably  nearer  to  it ;  but  we  shall  be  better 
sheltered.  'Tis  just  in  front,  with  an  old  shot-pierced 
building  behind  it,  and  white  sand-bags  lying  on  top  of 
the  tawny  slope.  That  old  building  mighl,  be  a  ruinous 
mill,  and  those  bags  might  be  grist,  laid  out  there  along 
the  wall  until  the  miller  was  ready  for  it ;  but,  every  bag 
or  two,  there  is  a  sharp-eyed  Mississippian  with  his  rifle 
pointed  through  some  chink.  Let  us"  go  at  a  good  pace, 
so  that  no  one  of  those  fellows  will  have  a  chance  to 
draw  a -bead  on  either  of  us.  The  trench  goes  under  a 
large  trunk,  stretching  from  bank  to 'bank;  and  from 


THE    WOLF   AT   BAY.  207 

here  we  are  tolerably  safe.  Only  tolerably :  for  the 
other  day,  close  by  here,  one  of  our  company  was  hit  in 
the  face  by  a  glancing  ball ;  and  Sergt.  Bennett,  of 
Company  K,  was  mortally  wounded  by  a  fragment  from 
one  of  our  own  shells,  which  flew  back  into  our  lines 
from  over  the  rebel  parapet,  where  the  shell  exploded. 
We  are  coming  close,  you  see.  Climb  a  steep  pitch 
now,  and  we  reach  the  station  of  Company  D.  The 
sap  is  here  about  six  feet  wide  and  four  deep,  dug  out 
of  the  hard  soil,  the  dirt  being  thrown  out  on  the  side 
toward  the  enemy  ;  forming  a  bank  rising  about  five  feet 
from  the  surface,  and  therefore  about  nine  feet  above 
the  bottom  of  the  trench.  Here  now  are  our  boys,  the 
few  that  are  left,  — barely  twenty.  Along  the  top  of  the 
ridge  of  earth,  logs  are  placed ;  into  the  under  side  of 
which,  notches  are  cut  at  intervals  of  three  or  four  feet ; 
leaving,  between  the  earth  below  and  the  timber  above, 
a  loop-hole,  four  or  five  inches  in  diameter,  for  the  men 
to  fire  through.  McGill  has  just  sprung  down,  after 
discharging  his  piece.  Before  he  loads  again,  let  us 
climb  up,  and  take  a  view  of  the  world  through  the  hole. 
Carefully  !  Lay  your  body  up  against  the  steeply  sloping 
bank,  resting  the  feet  on  the  edge  of  the  sap.  By  all 
means,  take  care  that  the  top  of  your  head  does  not  pro 
ject  above  the  narrow  timber.  Your  face  is  at  the  hole 
now.  From  the  outside,  a  groove  runs  along  the  top 
of  the  thick  bank ;  then  comes  the  open  air  ;  and  oppo 
site  you,  within  call  easily  enough,  is  the  deadly  ridge  ; 
the  two  or  three  tents  behind  it ;  the  old,  ruinous  chim 
neys,  the  one  or  two  shattered  buildings,  —  so  near,  you 


208  THE    COLOR-G.UARD. 

can  plainly  see  threads  and  bricks  and  splinters.  Do 
not  look  long.  Every  yard,  perhaps  the  intervals  are 
less,  behind  the  sand-bags,  there  is  a  rifleman.  Mellen, 
of  Company  F,  has  just  been  shot  while  aiming  his 
piece  through  one  of  these  holes.  The  ball  entered 
through  the  hole,  hit  the  band  of  his  gun,  then  the  lock, 
splintering  wood  and  steel,  then  crashed  in  through  his 
chest. 

McGill  is  capping  his  gun.  Try  one  more  look  be 
fore  he  jumps  up  for  another  shot.  Can  you  see  any 
one?  No  head,  I'll  warrant ;  for,  though  they  are  brave 
enough  over  there,  they  are  not  often  careless.  The 
most  you  will  be  likely  to  see  will  be  a  hand  put  up  for 
a  moment,  with  a  ramrod,  as  the  charge  is  pushed 
home ;  or  a  glimpse  of  butternut  as  a  fellow  jumps 
past  some  interval  in  the  sand-bags.  Now  let  McGill 
and  Buffum  and  Wivers  and  the  others,  whose  place  it 
is,  blaze  away  at  whatever  they  can  see.  Little  Gott 
lieb  offers  me  his  piece  to  try  a  few  shots  :  but  I  am  not 
anxious  to  kill  a  man ;  and,  so  long  as  it  is  not  in  my 
place  to  fire,  I  decline  it. 

You  duck  your  head  now  as  the  balls  whistle  over. 
It  is  a  nervous  sound ;  but  you  would  soon  get  over  that 
here.  They  go  with  a  hundred  different  sounds  through 
the  air,  according  to  the  shape,  size,  and  velocity  of  the 
projectile.  Two  strike  the  bank.  It  is  like  two  quick 
blows  of  a  whip-lash.  That  went  overhead,  sharp  as 
the  cut  of  a  cimeter ;  another  goes  with  a  long  moan, 
then  drops  into  the  earth  with  a  "thud."  It  comes 
from  some  more  distant  point,  and  is  nearly  spent.  A 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  209 

shot  comes  from  some  great  gun  in  the  rear,  —  an  earth 
quake  report ;  then  the  groaning,  shuddering  rush  of 
the  shell,  as  if  the  air  were  sick  and  tired  of  them,  and 
it  was  too  much  to  be  borne  that  they  should  be  so  con 
stantly  sent. 

Sit  on  the  edge  of  the  trench  now,  with  your  feet 
hanging  down,  and  your  back  leaning  against  the  pile 
of  earth.  The  boys  have  built  shelters  of  boughs,  just 
on  the  other  side,  to  keep  off,  a  little,  the  intolerable 
sun.  A  line  of  men  goes  along  the  sap,  each  carrying 
a  fascine.  Then  comes  a  party  rolling  hogsheads  filled 
with  cotton.  These  are  built  into  the  bank  beyond  to 
give  it  strength.  Steve  and  Tom,  the  cooks,  come  up 
with  dinner,  which  is  cooked  back  in  the  woods  to  the 
rear.  Coffee  and  stewed  beans  to-day.  There  !  —  a 
shower  of  dirt  falls  over  us,  dinner  and  all,  from  a  ball 
that  hit  near  the  loop-hole :  but  to  dirt  and  balls  alike 
we  are  growing  indifferent ;  so  we  only  laugh. 

But  let  us  go  out  to  the  end  of  the  sap.  We  pass 
the  young  captain  of  engineers,  who  is  in  charge  here  ; 
a  pleasant,  active  young  fellow,  who  nods  back  to  us  as 
we  give  him  the  salute,  make  several  turns,  and  pre 
sently  are  at  the  end.  Negroes  are  making  the  trench 
here  wider.  We  push  through  them  to  the  cotton- 
stuffed  hogshead  at  the  extremity.  They  roll  this  for 
ward  a  foot  or  two,  then  dig  out  behind  it,  and  so  on. 
A  lieutenant  of  engineers,  and  a  negro,  have  just  been 
shot  here.  From  this  crevice  we  can  get  a  peep.  Is 
it  not  near?  You  can  easily  throw  a  hard-tack  across. 
Looking  back  on  to  a  side-hill,  we  can  see  some  of  the 


210  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

old  wreck  of  the  assault,  —  a  rusty  gun  or  two,  mouldy 
equipments,  and  there  a  skeleton.  Some  regiments  got 
very  near  on  the  14th.  Close  by  runs  the  little,  disused 
path,  among  weeds  and  wild-flowers,  along  which,  be 
fore  we  came,  the  garrison  used  to  go  from  their  works 
to  the  road.  It  looks  innocent  as  the  path  up  Pocum- 
tuc ;  but  what  a  way  of  death  it  would  be  to  him  who 
should  get  out  of  the  sap,  and  try  to  walk  in  it !  Our 
boys  in  the  sap  here  have  distinguished  company.  Al 
most  every  day,  Gen.  Banks  comes  through,  —  some 
times  with  quite  a  retinue,  sometimes  only  with  Gen. 
Stone. 

"Well,  boys,  how  do  you  stand  it?"  said  he,  the 
other  day,  to  our  men. 

"  Arrah,  now,  your  honor,"  said  Pat  O'Toole,  ff  we're 
most  dead  intirely  for  the  want  of  whishkey." 

We  wait  and  watch.  When  night  comes,  I  climb 
out  of  the  ravine  on  to  the  hillside,  where  the  air  is 
fresh.  There  is  a  bright  moon  now,  and  my  vigil  is 
sure  to  be  well  lit.  I  am  often  there  at  midnight ;  and 
on  the  rebel  side,  faint  and  far  along  distant  roads,  I 
hear  the  low  rattle  of  wheels,  and  call  of  drivers  ;  and 
the  sound  of  the  active  mill  too,  whose  location  the  bat 
teries  are  crazy  to  know,  that  they  may  seal  its  doom. 

July  6. — The  interest  of  campaigning  I  find  to  be 
of  a  spasmodic  sort,  —  a  few  days  of  excitement  and 
intense  labor,  then  long  periods  of  tedious  inactivity. 
The  interval  since  the  skirmish  near  Jackson  has  been 
an  uninteresting  period,  because  its  experiences  are  of  a 
sort  to  which  we  have  become  accustomed,  and  of 


THE    WOLF    AT   BAY.  211 

which  we  have  grown  tired.  Our  life  is  a  monotony 
of  perilous  exposure.  The  regiment  remains  in  its 
advanced  position,  constantly  under  fire,  and  occasion 
ally  losing  a  member,  killed  or  wounded.  Meantime, 
the  engineers  have  been  pushing  forward  their  work. 
What  would  have  become  of  us,  if  the  work  of  siege 
had  fallen  to  us  to  do,  I  do  not  know :  or,  rather,  it  is 
easy  to  see  what  would  have  become  of  us,  — hundreds 
and  hundreds  in  hospitals,  or  silent  under  brown 
mounds  ;  mounds  which,  as  it  is,  have  become  numerous 
on  hillsides,  and  wherever  the  ground  is  open  and  at 
all  easy  to  the  shovel. 

Sambo,  however,  has  saved  us  many  lives.  These 
big  black  fellows,  with  arms  like  our  legs  almost,  and 
with  muscle  piled  in  great  layers  about  rib  and  back, 
have  done  the  main  work.  The  soil  through  which  the 
sap  runs  is  very  hard,  — a  tough,  unyielding  clay,  upon 
which  a  shovel  makes  but  little  impression. 

Almost  every  crumble  of  it,  it  has  been  necessary  to 
hew  out  with  a  pickaxe.  Sambo,  however,  is  equal  to 
it.  He  has  the  courage  to  stand  close  to  the  rebel  rifle- 
pits  all  the  time,  and  the  strength  to  handle  this  un 
yielding  earth. 

Every  morning  and  every  night,  the  long  fatigue-par 
ties  from  the  black  engineer  troops  relieve  each  other  ; 
and  day  by  day,  as  we  lot>k  out  from  our  hiding-places, 
we  can  see  that  the  line  of  our  sap  runs  farther  and 
farther.  Two  "  cavaliers  "  have  also  been  constructed. 
These  are  elevations,  built  up  of  hogsheads,  tier  above 
tier,  designed  to  give  sharpshooters  a  position  from 


212  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

which  they  can  fire  well  within  the  parapet.  The  brunt 
of  the  work  the  negroes  do.  There  are  white  over 
seers  ;  and  fatigue-parties,  too,  are  detailed  from  white 
regiments  :  but,  for  the  most  part,  we  have  had  it  for 
our  work  to  keep  sharp  watch  from  our  cover,  and 
never  allow  a  rebel  head  to  appear  above  the  opposite 
parapet,  without  a  pointed  leaden  hint  to  withdraw, 
insinuated  without  ceremony  through  a  loophole. 

We  keep  hearing  of  the  new  assault.  The  army 
began  to  prepare  for  it  at  once,  after  the  14th  of  June. 
It  was  then  supposed  it  would  take  place  almost  imme 
diately  ;  but  it  has  been  deferred.  Tuesday  evening, 
June  30,  I  had  been  for  an  hour  or  two  at  the  camp, 
in  the  woods  back  from  the  front,  where  the  convales 
cents  of  the  regiments  are  quartered.  Returning  to  my 
post  about  sunset,  I  found  the  road  full  of  troops.  A 
division  had  assembled  to  hear  a  speech  from  the  com 
manding  general.  The  gloss  of  military  show  had  all 
worn  off.  The  men  were  brown ,  —  attired  as  they 
chose  to  be,  —  shaggy  and  stained  with  their  bear-like 
life  in  ravines  and  behind  logs.  There  were  no  flags 
or  music,  no  shining  brass  or  glossy  broadcloth  and 
lace.  If  glory  lies  in  these  things,  "  Ichabod  "  was 
written  in  deep,  emphatic  lines  on  the  whole  com 
pany. 

But  these  were  the  stout  Fourth  Wisconsin,  and 
Thirty-first  Massachusetts,  and  other  decimated  regi 
ments,  that  had  faced  rifle-muzzles  in  the  two  previous 
deadly  assaults,  and  had  all  the  heart  in  the  world  for 
another.  If  glory  lies  in  that,  every  tanned  and  un- 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  213 

combed  platoon  abounded  in  it.  Presently  there  was  a 
stir,  and  the  general  rode  up,  iron  as  ever,  in  rough, 
serviceable  dress  ;  the  gray  moustache  on  his  upper  lip 
cropping  out  like  a  ledge  of  the  metal,  almost  pure. 
He  made  a  speech :  — 

"  We  were  close  on  another  assault.  It  was  sure  to 
be  successful,  if  the  army  would  do  as  well  as  it  had 
done.  Then  would  come  rest,  and  the  campaign  would 
close  in  light." 

Still  we  wait.  A  day  or  two  after  that,  I  walked 
down  one  branch  of  the  sap  to  Duryea's  battery  of 
regulars,  —  seven  twelve-pounders,  —  which  had  been 
dragged  in  through  the  narrow  trench  to  an  advanced 
point,  where  they  threatened  the  rebels  close  at  hand. 
As  I  went  along,  a  rebel  shell  exploded  in  the  air  over 
head,  the  pieces  falling  here  and  there  into  the  bushes 
and  into  the  dust.  In  the  air  where  the  shell  burst,  a 
halo  of  white,  compact  smoke  floated  for  a  minute  or 
two,  —  a  round,  perfect  ring,  from  which  depended  a 
fringe  of  less  compact  vapor,  that  floated  longer  and 
longer,  and  swayed  to  and  fro,  beautiful  as  a  bridal 
veil  hanging  from  a  crown.  The  battery  lay  behind  its 
embrasures,  silent.  Before  each  piece,  the  embrasure 
was  hidden  by  a  plate  of  iron,  in  which  was  a  hole  of 
the  size  of  the  muzzle  of  a  gun,  temporarily  covered 
with  a  sand-bag.  A  rain  of  rifle-balls  was  being  show 
ered  on  the  spot.  I  did  not  stay  long  ;  for  that  morning 
the  battery-men  told  us  they  had  lost  three.  They  were 
waiting  and  waiting,  with  their  cartridges  at  hand,  and 
their  fierce  shells  in  piles,  ready  for  their  deadly  flight. 


214  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

Another  day,  I  went  through  another  branch  of  the 
sap  to  the  mine.  The  passage  was  guarded  against  all 
but  workmen  ;  but,  fortunately,  I  met  the  colonel  near 
the  sentry,  and  he  passed  me  in.  I  went  through  the 
zigzag  passages,  passed  piles  of  fascines,  and  a  pontoon 
bridge  which  lay  ready  to  be  put  together  across  any 
ditch,  when  the  day  shall  come  for  the  charge. 

At  last  I  came  to  a  turn,  and  found  the  parapet 
straight  ahead.  The  sap  ended  in  the  mine,  —  a  hole 
about  four  feet  square,  where  a  party  of  men  were  bur 
rowing  under  the  enemy's  earthwork.  I  stooped,  and 
looked  in  at  the  mouth.  Negroes,  on  their  knees,  were 
working  there  by  candle-light,  excavating  a  place  in 
which  are  to  be  put  kegs  of  powder.  With  these  it  is 
designed  to  blow  the  parapet  into  the  air,  leaving  a 
passage  for  our  troops.  It  was  a  perilous  place.  The 
workmen  all  spoke  in  whispers,  as  they  do  in  powder- 
mills.  Sometimes  the  rebs  toss  over  hand-grenades. 
Capt.  Morton,  with  a  squad,  was  at  work  there,  placing 
sandbags.  A  short  time  after,  in  this  very  place,  his 
lieutenant  and  some  of  his  men  were  marked  for  life 
by  the  explosion  of  a  hand-grenade. 

Still  the  days  pass,  and  no  order  is  given.  We  im 
agined  4th  of  July  would  be  the  day ;  but  it  was  not. 
Nor  was  it  Sunday,  the  day  following ;  nor  Monday, 
to-day.  The  regiment  is  growing  blue.  This  week, 
our  time  is  out ;  and  the  idea  is  spreading,  that  there  is 
no  going  home  for  us  till  the  place  falls.  There  are 
some  insubordinate  threats  ;  but  many  of  us  feel  as  if 
our  personal  honor  is  concerned,  and  are  determined 


THE   WOLF   AT    BAY.  215 

not  to  go  till  the  place  falls,  no  matter  when  it  happens. 
To-day,  Port  Hudson  seems  more  impregnable  than 
ever.  The  space  within  those  stubborn  banks,  gullied 
by  the  rains  and  baked  by  the  suns,  so  terribly  edged 
with  fire,  as  yet  is  unapproached  and  unapproachable. 

To-night,  Company  D  have  all  been  in  tears.  Cyrus 
Stowell,  the  "pleasant  corporal,"  so  called  for  his  un 
failing  amiability,  on  duty  on  our  middle  picket-post, 
thrown  out  upon  the  very  mouths  of  the  rebel  rifles, 
suddenly,  just  at  sundown,  was  shot  through  the  head ; 
his  pure,  sweet  young  life  swept  off  in  an  instant.  We 
dug  his  grave  late  this  evening,  by  the  light  of  tapers 
dimly  burning,  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  crowned  by  the 
old  rifle-pits  of  the  enemy,  out  of  which  we  had  forced 
them.  Overhead  was  the  clear  light  of  stars. 

On  the  horizon  a  tempest  was  gathering,  —  swelling 
accumulations  of  thunder -charged  cloud  lit  up  each 
moment  from  within  with  sudden  luminousness,  and 
rumbling  with  coming  storm.  Close  at  hand,  through 
the  agitated  air,  hurtled  the  constant  roar  of  the  siege. 
The  body  could  not  be  brought  out  till  after  dark,  as  it 
was  necessary  to  pass  several  exposed  places. 

It  came  at  last,  late  at  night,  upon  a  stretcher  borne 
by  his  comrades.  We  wrapped  his  young,  tall  figure 
in  his  tent,  and  laid  him  to  rest.  As  we  stood  uncov 
ered,  during  the  service,  close  overhead  swept  the  rifle- 
balls,  until  we  thought  there  would  be  some  new  victim 
to  be  buried  beside  him. 


216  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

TRIUMPH. 

+  JULY  8. — The  drama  of  Port  Hudson  I  imagine 
to  be  pretty  much  played  out.  Yesterday  our  company 
had  come  out  from  the  advance  to  rest.  Suddenly 
an  orderly  passed  through  a  group  of  us  sitting  near  the 
colonel's  quarters,  hurrying  with  despatches  to  the  dif 
ferent  commanders  of  the  brigade.  McGill  rushed  out, 
and  read  the  despatch  as  he  carried  it  in  his  hand.  It 
was,  "  Vicksburg  surrendered  on  the  Fourth  !  "  Every 
pale,  haggard  face  lit  up  with  a  wonderfully  jolly  light. 
Presently  the  brigadier  hurried  into  the  trenches  ;  and  a 
soldier,  on  duty  at  the  mine,  by  his  command,  threw 
the  news  over  among  the  rebels.  At  noon,  we  had  a 
great  firing  of  salutes.  This  morning,  before  light,  we 
heard  that  a  conference  of  the  generals  was  to  be  held 
to  agree  upon  the  terms  of  surrender,  and  that  a 
truce  was  to  begin  at  once.  The  major  went  off  through 
the  dark  to  order  the  sharpshooters  to  stop  firing  ;  while 
we  rubbed  our  eyes,  wondering  if  the  day  had  really 
come,  —  if  our  cause  had  really  gained  this  great  suc 
cess,  and  we  could  go  home  with  credit. 


TRIUMPH.  217 

July  12.  — In  Port  Hudson  at  last !  There  was  no 
false  alarm.  Yicksburg  really  fell  on  the  4th  inst.  On 
the  8th,  down  went  Port  Hudson ;  and  the  particular 
work  for  which  we  came  here  was  at  last  accomplished, 
just  as  our  term  of  service  expired.  Glory  be  to 
God! 

I  write  on  the  bold  Port-Hudson  bluff,  within  a  step 
or  two  of  the  precipice,  which  descends  seventy  feet  to 
the  water's  edge.  My  back  is  resting  against  the  earth 
work  which  protected  one  of  the  great  cannon  of  the 
rebels.  Before  me  rolls  the  great  river  ;  the  bluff  here 
commanding  a  splendid  reach  of  it,  five  or  six  miles  up 
toward  Vicksburg.  From  the  water  and  the  green 
woods  that  fringe  it  comes  a  cool  breeze.  Our  work  is 
done  ;  our  time  has  expired  ;  and  now  we  only  wait  for 
the  sick  of  the  regiment  to  be  assembled,  for  the  bag 
gage  to  be  collected,  and  for  the  arrival  of  the  trans 
ports  to  take  us  North. 

I  am  weary  and  worn  with  the  siege  and  hard  fare  ; 
but  the  experiences  of  the  last  few  days  have  been  so 
interesting,  that  I  must  make  some  record  of  them. 

As  I  have  written,  before  daybreak,  the  morning  of 
the  8th  of  July,  the  major  went  into  the  rifle-pits  to 
stop  hostilities,  as  the  conference  of  the  commanding 
generals  was  about  to  begin  under  a  flag  of  truce. 
About  sunrise,  I  hurried  down  the  military  road,  and 
through  the  obstructed  pathways,  to  the  position  of  the 
regiment.  The  ravines  were  empty.  I  climbed  up  past 
the  forsaken  booths  and  caves  to  the  outer  picket-posts, 
and  found  the  men  were  all  out  in  front.  There  was 

10 


218  THE    COLOlt-GUAKD. 

no  need,  this  morning,  of  crouching.  The  rebel  works 
were  only  a  stone's-toss  off;  but  the  rebels  themselves 
were  walking  and  standing  in  the  plainest  sight,  and 
free  communication  was  going  forward  between  the  two 
armies. 

A  most  complete  entente  cordiale  had  just  been 
established  between  Company  D  and  the  Alabama  and 
Arkansas  men  who  have  been  posted  opposite  to  us.  It 
was  rather  embarrassing,  at  first,  to  come  face  to  face 
with  the  chaps,  who,  for  a  month  back,  have  been 
shooting  at  you  night  and  day  :  but  I  wanted  to  study 
the  live  "reb,"  and  determine  the  category  in  natural 
history  under  which  he  should  come, — whether  "go 
rilla,"  as  some  claim ;  or  "  chivalry,"  as  others ;  or 
something  between. 

I  passed  out  from  behind  an  uprooted  tree,  the 
grass  near  the  stump  yet  pressed  down,  where  the  body 
of  Stowell  fell  as  he  was  shot ;  then  pushed  on  for  a 
hollow,  about  half  way  to  the  rebel  works,  having  an 
uncomfortable  sense  of  insecurity  as  I  walked  upright ; 
for  it  had  become  second  nature  to  us  to  crawl  and  stoop. 
It  was  only  a  few  steps.  Here  they  were,  the  real 
truculent  and  unmitigated  reb,  in  butternut  of  every 
shade,  from  the  dingy  green  which  clothes  the  unripe 
nut,  to  the  tawny  brown  and  faded  tan  which  it  wears 
at  other  stages,  — butternut  mixed  with  a  dull  charac 
terless  gray.  There  was  no  attempt  at  uniform,  yet 
something  common,  in  the  dress  of  the  whole  company, 
—  a  faded  look,  as  if  the  fabric,  whatever  its  original 
hue,  had  felt  the  sun  until  all*life  and  brightness  had 


TRIUMPH.  219 

... 
, 
wilted  in  the  web  and  been  killed  out  of  the  dye.     Still 

the  clothing  was  whole ;  and,  upon  closer  inspection, 
looked  strong  and  serviceable,  though  very  coarse. 

A  group  of  rebels  were  gathered  in  the  hollow ;  and 
over  the  parapet  others  came  jumping,  coming  in  a 
straggling  line  down  the  slope.  I  am  bound  to  say, 
they  seemed  like  pleasant  men.  All  were  good-natured, 
and  met  our  advances  cordially.  They  straightened  up 
as  we  did.  "  It  was  good  to  be  able  to  stretch  up  once 
more  to  the  full  height :  they  had  not  been  able  to  do 
it  for  a  month."  Several  were  free-masons  ;  and  there 
was  mysterious  clasping  and  mighty  fraternizing  with 
the  brethren  on  our  side.  Some  had  been  in  Northern 
colleges,  and  were  gentlemen;  and  even  the  "white 
trash"  and  "border  ruffians,"  who  made  up  the  mass  of 
them,  were  a  less  inhuman  set  than  I  should  have 
believed. 

The  officers,  sometimes,  wore  a  uniform  of  gray  ;  the 
rank  being  indicated  by  badges  upon  the  collar.  Some 
times  there  was  nothing  to  distinguish  them  from  pri 
vates.  They  were  brown  and  dusty ;  though  no  more 
so  than  we,  who,  like  them,  had  lived  in  burrows,  on 
our  backs  and  stomachs,  for  a  month.  We  really 
thought,  that  in  condition  they  went  ahead  of  us.  The 
climate  and  hard  marching  had  sallowed  and  dug  into 
our  cheeks  and  shaken  us  on  our  pins  ;  whereas  they 
were,  though  not  fat,  by  no  means  gaunt  and  emaciated. 
Still  they  hinted  at  rats,  mule  meat,  and  other  hard 
matters,  they  had  been  forced  of  late  to  come  down  to. 

"  Here  comes  Old  Thous'n  Yards  ! "  said  they,  as  a 


220  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

broad,  tall  Arkansian,  with  a  beard  heavy  as  Spanish 
moss  on  an  oak,  and  a  quick,  dark  eye,  came  swinging 
down  from  the  parapet.  They  all  made  way  for  him 
with  some  deference.  He  was  "Old  Thous'n  .Yards" 
with  every  one,  and  turned  out  to  be  the  great  sharp 
shooter  of  that  part  of  the  works.  I  inquired  about 
him,  and  found  he  was  a  famous  backwoodsman  and 
hunter,  who,  with  a  proper  rifle,  was  really  sure  of  a 
bear  or  buffalo  at  the  distance  of  a  thousand  yards. 
He  came  forward  rather  bashfully.  On  both  sides,  the 
rifles  were  left  behind ;  and  "  Old  Thousand  Yards " 
seemed  to  be  as  much  troubled  to  dispose  of  his  hands 
as  a  college  freshman  at  his  first  party.  His  left  arm 
would  half  bend  into  a  hollow  as  if  to  receive  the  rifle- 
barrel,  and  the  right  fingers  work  as  if  they  wanted  to 
feel  the  touch  of  the  lock.  I  borrowed  a  chew  of 
tobacco,  and  won  the  perennial  friendship  of  "Old 
Thousand  Yards"  by  bestowing  it  upon  him.  Then  I 
bought  his  cedar  canteen  to  preserve  as  a  souvenir  of  Port 
Hudson  and  its  sharpshooter.  I  fear  more  than  one  of 
our  poor  fellows  has  felt  his  skill ;  but,  for  all  that,  he 
was  a  good-natured  fellow,  with  a  fine  frame  and  noble 
countenance,  —  a  physique  to  whose  vigor  and  mascu 
line  beauty,  prairies  and  mountain-paths  and  wild  chases 
had  contributed. 

For  the  most  part,  these  men  of  the  Forty-ninth 
Alabama  and  Fifteenth  Arkansas  seemed  like  honorable 
fellows,  firm  to  their  cause  ;  disposed  to  be  good-natured, 
but  declining  to  give  communications  likely  to  help  us  ; 
and,  although  owning  to  great  hardship,  apparently 


TRIUMPH.  221 

ready  to  fight  on.  They  complimented  our  sharp- 
shooting.  It  killed  and  wounded  far  more  than  our 
shells  had  done ;  though  our  shells  had  burned  stables 
here,  a  camp  there,  houses  elsewhere,  and  dismounted 
many  guns.  They  told  us  their  rifles  were  Belgian, 
Enfield,  and  Springfield.  They  had  no  "target,"  or 
Kentucky  rifles,  as  we  had  imagined.  They  evidently 
respected  us,  and  we  did  them,  —  so  brown  and 
strong :  some  of  them,  indeed,  with  lack-lustre  eyes, 
soap-locks,  and  lank  frames,  according  to  the  conven 
tional  type  of  the  Southerner ;  but  plenty  of  them 
hearty,  bright,  and  frank. 

I  came  back  at  last  to  our  covert,  took  a  drink  of 
rebel  water  out  of  "  Old  Thousand  Yards'  "  canteen,  and 
found  my  hostility  to  these  fellows  much  mitigated.  I 
could  see  why  commanders  generally  frown  on  this  sort 
of  communication.  It  is  likely  to  establish  relations 
altogether  too  brotherly  for  the  purposes  of  war.  The 
great  principle  involved  is  liable  to  sink  out  of  sight 
before  the  personal  friendship. 

Meantime,  the  generals  conferred.  At  noon,  a  hitch 
was  rumored,  and  we  feared  the  re-opening  of  the  tedi 
ous  and  terrible  siege ;  but  in  the  afternoon  came  better 
news,  and  at  sundown  the  regiments  began  to  gather 
from  dens  and  caves,  from  thickets  and  ravines,  — far 
and  near,  —  and  burnish  up  a  little  for  a  triumphal 
entry  on  the  morrow. 

The  morrow  came.  We  left  the  woods  ;  the  filthy 
little  brook  whose  banks  had  been  covered  with  the 
cooking  booths  of  whole  divisions  of  men,  and  which 


222  THE    COLOll-GUARD. 

we  had  daily  drunk  almost  dry;  the  graves  and  the 
rifle-pits,  the  half-completed  saps,  and  dreary  ovens 
in  which  the  sun  had  baked  us  so  long.  We  left  them ; 
henceforth,  through  long  generations  probably,  to  be 
objects  of  historical  interest,  mementoes  of  the  great 
war.  With  the  old  flag,  in  Wilson's  hands,  spreading 
its  soiled  and  tattered  fragments  to  the  breeze,  a  sick 
and  diminished  company,  we  marched  through  the  gate, 
over  tracks  marked  out  by  our  shell,  through  riddled 
camps,  past  carcasses  of  horses,  and  new-made  graves 
of  men ;  then  drew  up  in  line,  at  last,  on  the  brink  of 
the  bluff,  with  the  great,  liberated  river  rolling  before 
us  toward  the  sea. 

"  We  were  but  warriors  for  the  working-day  : 
Our  gayness  and  our  gilt  were  all  besmirched 
With  rainy  marching  in  the  painful  field. 
There  was  no  piece  of  feather  in  our  host, 
And  time  had  worn  us  into  slovenry ; 
But,  by  the  Mass !  our  hearts  were  in  the  trim." 

July  13.  —  Since  the  army  entered  Port  Hudson,  I 
have  taken  two  long  rambles  :  the  first,  to  the  corner 
of  the  works  opposite  our  "  right  centre,"  the  point  at 
which  we  were  stationed ;  the  other,  to  what  is  called 
the  "  citadel,"  at  the  southern  end  of  the  defences  on 
the  river-bank.  It  was  only  very  strong  curiosity  that 
drew  me  out  for  these  walks.  We  all  find  ourselves 
much  debilitated.  Our  fare,  always  hard  enough,  has 
lately  been  harder  than  ever.  About  the  time  of  the 
surrender,  there  was  a  period  of  some  days  during  which 
I  tasted  nothing  but  our  hard-bread  —  which  now  is 


TRIUMPH.  223 

often  wormy  —  and  our  coarse  coffee.  Fat  salt-pork, 
indeed,  was  served  out  to  us ;  but  that,  for  me,  is  out 
of  the  question,  in  this  climate.  We  are  just  finding 
out,  now,  the  strait  we  were  in.  The  rebels  had  actually 
blocked  up  the  river  at  Donaldsonville,  and  destroyed 
our  communications  \vith  New  Orleans,  whence  we 
draw  all  our  supplies,  when  Port  Hudson  surrendered. 
The  day  after  our  entrance,  however,  I  forgot  my 
weakness,  so  far  as  I  could,  and  started  with  Grider 
and  McGill  out  upon  the  line  of  the  Clinton  and  Port- 
Hudson  Railroad  for  the  "  works."  I  ought  to  say,  that 
we  find  Port  Hudson  to  be  a  little  cluster  of  perhaps 
forty  or  fifty  houses,  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff.  The 
line  of  rebel  intrencliments  extends  about  this  in  the 
form  of  an  irregular  semicircle, — beginning  on  the 
river-bank,  then  running  well  back  into  the  country, 
and  returning  to  strike  the  bluff  two  or  three  miles 
below  the  village.  The  length  of  the  line  of  intrench 
ments  is  said  to  be  about  seven  miles.  As  we  left  the 
neighborhood  of  the  little  village,  the  country  grew  wild, 
cut  and  crossed,  like  the  ground  we  had  occupied  out 
side,  with  ravines  and  little  watercourses.  The  car 
casses  of  animals  were  abundant,  making  the  air  foul ; 
and  often  we  came  to  old  camps ,  —  rows  of  huts  built  of 
logs  and  mud.  Many  of  the  huts  were  pierced  by  our 
shot,  which  seem  to  have  penetrated  to  every  part  of 
the  space  within  the  enclosure.  Every  few  steps,  the 
foot  trod  upon  a  fragment  of  exploded  .shell,  or  a  Par- 
rott  bolt,  or  round  shot.  Not  far  from  the  breastwork, 
we  came  to  a  redoubt  which  contained  a  ruined  cannon. 


THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

It  was  a  large  siege-piece,  facing,  through  its  embra 
sure,  one  of  our  cavaliers,  which  contained,  I  remem 
ber,  a  formidable  Parrott  gun.  This  poor  cannon  was 
deeply  dented  here  and  there  throughout  its  length, 
its  carriage  splintered  ;  and  it  was  turned  on  to  its  side, 
so  that  the  trunnions  were  vertical.  The  last  shot  of 
our  Parrott,  so  the  rebels  told  us,  had  struck  at  the 
muzzle,  just  splintering  the  Up  of  the  piece,  then  fairly 
entering  the  bore.  We  could  feel  an  obstruction  in  the 
bore  of  the  gun,  with  the  rammer,  which  we  supposed 
was  the  bolt.  We  were  told  that  the  shot  struck  just  as 
a  brave  and  skilful  officer  was  sighting  the  piece ;  and 
that  a  certain  dark  stain,  still  visible  on  the  earth  near 
by,  was  his  life-blood,  poured  out  then  and  there.  This 
cannon  was  not  upon  the  outer  intrenchments.  The 
precision  of  our  artillery-fire,  the  rebels  assure  us,  was 
something  wonderful ;  and  we  found  ample  evidence  of 
it.  Every  gun  at  all  exposed  was  sure  to  be  detected 
by  the  sharp  eyes  of  our  cannoneers  ;  and  then  its  fate 
was  sealed.  At  last,  the  rebels  only  dared  to  place 
their  guns  in  the  rear,  concealing  their  whereabouts  as 
much  as  possible  :  but  then  they  were  not  safe,  as  in 
the  case  of  this  piece. 

From  this  point,  we  soon  came  to  the  memorable 
angle  where  our  sap  approached.  Every  step,  the  evi 
dences  of  the  past  storm  became  more  numerous.  The 
trees  had  lost  their  tops,  the  shells  had  hollowed  out 
huge  holes  in  the  ground,  and  even  weeds  and  bushes 
showed  where  the  fire  had  swept.  We  came  fairly  to 
the  outer  works  :  and  here  the  appearance  of  things  was 


TRIUMPH.  225 

as  if  a  tornado  had  swept  across,  whose  hail  had  had 
the  power  to  penetrate  every  thing;  or  rather  as  if 
the  spot  had  received  such  a  fiery  storm  as  fell  upon 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  The  few  trees  still  standing 
were  splintered  into  match-wood  up  their  sides,  or  had 
lost  their  tops ;  and,  in  some  cases,  the  solid  balls  had 
pierced  them  through  and  through,  leaving  them  stand 
ing,  tall  and  thick,  with  perforated  trunks  !  The  rough 
buildings  near,  which  we  had  been  able  to  see  so  plainly, 
were  shattered  in  every  way ;  and  hardly  a  square  foot 
could  be  found  upon  their  timbers  not  marked  by  a  bullet. 
The  surface  of  the  earth  was  ploughed  and  seared ; 
the  sand-bags  on  the  breastwork,  that  I  have  looked 
at  so  often  from  our  cover,  were  pierced  and  powder- 
stained;  and,  in  the  old  rifle-pits,  bloody  sacking  toM 
where  there  had  been  killed  and  wounded  men.  It 
was  very  interesting  to  look  over  toward  our  approaches 
and  hiding-places.  Here  ran  our  sap,  touching  at  last 
the  parapet ;  there  rose  the  outside  of  the  towering  ca 
valier  ;  there  was  the  pile  of  cotton-bales,  protecting  an 
exposed  part  of  the  military  road,  behind  which  I  had 
often  crept ;  and  there  (how  very  close  and  plain  !)  was 
the  prostrate  tree  where  Cyrus  S  to  well  was  shot.  I 
must  have  stood  in  the  very  tracks  of  the  riflemen  who 
did  it.  It  was  a  little  melancholy  to  think  of  the  haunts 
as  abandoned  that  had  held  so  much  life ;  where,  for 
twenty-five  days,  we  had  undergone  peril  and  hardship. 
We  found  the  rebels  had  had  no  better  cover  than  we, 
and  that  our  fire  ha4  been  more  sharp  and  deadly  even 

titan  theirs. 

10* 


226  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

The  preparations  the  rebels  had  been  making  against 
our  third  assault  were  in  plain  view  here.  We  knew 
they  had  been  hard  at  work.  Mysterious  sounds  had 
come  over  into  our  sap  ;  and  a  pickaxe  or  shovel  would 
occasionally  be  thrust  up  into  view,  over  the  parapet. 
Where  the  breach  was  to  have  been  made,  a  space  of 
ground  was  thickly  planted  with  hard-wood  stakes, 
sharply  pointed.  A  second  parapet,  for  riflemen,  had 
been  constructed,  and  a  cannon  posted  to  throw  grape. 
In  the  ground  were  buried  enormous  shell,  ready  to  be 
discharged.  The  wires  connecting  with  these  ran  near 
our  feet,  and  we  were  forced  to  step  with  care.  Had 
Heaven  been  a  little  less  kind,  it  would  have  been  our 
fate  to  charge  at  this  very  spot. 

*  The  "Citadel,"  at  the  southern  end  of  the  intrench- 
ments,  was  the  goal  of  an  excursion  on  the  day 
following.  It  was  a  walk  of  a  mile  and  a  half. 
Here  the  siege  operations  had  been  of  greater  magni 
tude  than  at  our  approach.  The  effects  of  the  enor 
mous  artillery  of  the  fleet  appeared  as  they  could  not 
be  seen  elsewhere.  Here,  too,  the  rebels  had  placed 
along  the  bluff  their  most  formidable  guns, — the  mouths 
that  had  spoken  so  thunderously  the  doom  of  the  "  Mis 
sissippi,"  stranded  on  the  shore  opposite  there,  that 
night  in  March,  when  we  listened  in  the  woods.  We 
found  great  cavities,  where  the  large  bombs  had  ex 
ploded.  If  the  earth  was  soft,  it  is  not  exaggerating 
much  to  say  that  these  were  large  enough  for  cellars  to 
small  houses.  If  the  earth  was  hard,  they  were  large 
enough  to  make  rifle-pits  for  a  soldier.  We  came  to 


TRIUMPH.  227 

smooth,  round  holes,  a  foot  or  so  in  diameter,  bored 
down  into  the  earth  out  of  sight.  I  thought,  at  first, 
they  were  ventilators  to  some  deep  bomb-proof  or  sub 
terranean  passage  of  the  enemy ;  but  they  were  too 
numerous  and  too  irregularly  disposed  for  that.  They 
were  made  by  descending  shot.  Presently  we  found 
some  projectiles,  —  gigantic  bolts  of  iron, — two  feet 
long  and  eight  inches  thick,  and  cone-shaped  at  one 
end.  We  could  not  begin  to  lift  them,  nor  many  of 
the  fragments  of  the  exploded  shells. 

The  shells  were  the  missiles  whose  wonderful  flight  I 
had  watched  so  often,  alone,  at  midnight,  from  the  top 
of  the  slope  above  the  ravine  of  the  color-guard.  The 
southern  horizon  would  light  up  with  the  wide-spreading 
glare  of  the  discharge ;  then  came  the  majestic  plane 
tary  sweep  of  the  ascending  bomb,  revealed  by  its 
revolving  fuse,  far  into  the  zenith,  — the  deep,  swinging 
roar,  the  stern  music  of  the  rushing  sphere  ;  then  the 
awful  fall  from  the  perihelion  of  its  tremendous  orbit, 
and  the  earthquake  crash  at  last !  In  such  manner, 
once  perhaps,  a  circling  world,  with  fire-charged  heart, 
burst  into  the  asteroids  ! 

As  we  approached  the  southern  defences,  we  found 
them  to  be  evidently  of  older  construction  and  more 
formidable  character  than  the  defences  we  had  before 
seen.  The  citadel  was  an  outlying  work,  in  front 
of  a  double  or  triple  line  of  parapets.  Less  than  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  opposite,  across  a  depression,  was  a 
seventeen-gun  battery  of  ours,  which  had  added  its 
force  to  that  of  the  fleet.  From  this  battery,  toward 


228  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

the  river,  ran  a  trench,  perhaps  forty  rods  in  length. 
Opening  from  the  trench,  a  zigzag  sap  approached  the 
citadel,  —  so  dug  that  troops  could  come  up  to  its  walls 
without  exposure.  The  approach  touched  the  hostile 
parapet,  and  ended  in  a  mine,  which  was  nearly  com 
pleted  at  the  time  of  the  surrender  ;  and  ran  —  a  deep 
resounding  cavern  —  far  under  the  feet  of  the  defend 
ers.  It  was  designed,  by  means  of  this,  to  blow  this 
whole  part  of  the  fortification  into  the  air. 

The  clash  of  the  hostile  forces  here  had  been  tre 
mendous.  It  was  impossible  to  think  of  the  Northern 
power,  except  as  a  terrible  fiery  tide,  which,  responding 
to  some  tempest-breathing  of  God,  had  hurled  itself 
upon  this  outpost.  I  came  when  the  storm  was  gone, 
and  could  see  the  mark  of  the  sublime  impact.  The 
sea  had  torn  its  ragged,  zigzag  way  through  the  bosom 
of  hill  and  plain,  — dashed  against  battlement  and  cliff, 
and  roared  at  the  base,  until  it  had  hollowed  out  for 
itself  deep-penetrating  channels.  Everywhere  it  had 
scattered  its  fiery  spume.  Within  the  citadel  lay  siege- 
guns  and  field-pieces,  broken  and  dented  by  blows 
mightier  than  those  of  trip-hammers ;  wheels,  torn  to 
bits ;  solid  oaken  beams,  riven  as  by  lightning ;  stub 
born  parapets,  dashed  through  almost  as  a  locomotive's 
plough  dashes  through  a  snow-drift,  —  these,  and  the 
bloody  garments  of  men. 

A  photographist  was  quietly  taking  pictures  on  the 
parapet ;  one  or  two  soldiers  were  strolling  about :  but 
the  storm  was  gone,  —  the  sapper  gone  from  the  mine, 
the  gunner  from  beside  his  cannon- wheel,  the  rifleman 


TRIUMPH.  229 

from  his  sand-bag,  still  smutched  from  the  muzzle 
of  his  piece.  Then,  as  we  came  back,  we  saw  the 
fierce,  gray-headed  old  colonel,  now  our  prisoner, 
who  had  commanded  here,  and  breasted  all  this  infer 
nal  force. 


230  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

OUR  work  was  'done.  The  regiment  languished  for 
two  or  three  weeks, — first  upon  the  bluff;  then  upon 
a  hot,  pestilential  plain,  far  back  within  the  fortress. 
Day  by  day,  men  fell  sick  of  fever,  or  worn  out  for  the 
want  of  proper  food.  Day  by  day,  we  laid  away  the 
dead ;  and  it  was  plain  more  must  die,  unless  we  could 
soon  go  northward. 

At  length,  the  forenoon  of  the  23d  of  July,  while  we 
were  burying  poor  Spencer  Phelps,  dead  of  terrible 
fever  just  at  the  moment  when  relief  was  at  hand,  the 
transport  touched  at  the  Levee,  which  was  to  take  us 
North.  At  dusk,  we  left  the  tents  and  the  graves,  the 
long  parapet  with  our  rifle-pits  beyond,  and  the  barren, 
sun-baked  bluff.  We  marched  aboard,  a  nerveless, 
debilitated  company,  too  weak  and  sick  to  show  joy 
even  at  going  home. 

Grosvenor,  indeed,  my  good  friend,  a  high-minded 
patriot,  whose  great  spirit  had  carried  his  feeble  body 
through  all  our  exposures,  though  pale  and  haggard, 
went  from  man  to  man,  shaking-  hands.  He  lay  down 
at  night,  spreading  out  his  blankets  with  his  old  com- 


CONCLUSION.  231 

rades.  In  the  morning,  his  couch  lay  as  he  had  spread 
it ;  but  he  was  gone,  and  the  eyes  of  no  man  have  rested 
upon  him  since.  His  was  a  brave  and  knightly  soul. 
No  doubt  he  rose  in  the  night,  too.  exultant,  perhaps, 
over  the  brighter  prospects  of  our  great  cause,  and 
over  the  thought  that  hardship  honorably  borne  was 
soon  to  be  over,  to  sleep.  The  moon,  about  full,  floated 
gloriously  before  him  in  the  heavens,  among  the  sum 
mer  clouds,  as  the  "  Sangreal,  with  its  veils  of  white 
samite,"  floated  before  Arthur's  pure-souled  knights. 
A  misstep  with  his- weak  limbs,  and  he  fell  overboard 
into  the  flood.  So  our  good  friend  must  have  per 
ished. 

Steadily  we  pushed  northward.  A  large  space, 
where  it  was  most  airy,  was  given  up  for  a  hospital, 
and  crowded  with  the  sick.  Here  was  my  post  at 
night,  from  seven  to  one.  One  night,  three  worn-out 
soldiers  gave  up  the  ghost ;  but  the  wind,  as  we  drew 
forward,  blew  more  cool,  and  the  air  of  home  began  to 
have  its  effect. 

We  looked  off  upon  Natchez  and  battered  Yicksburg  ; 
upon  gunboats  patrolling,  and  at  anchor  off  dangerous 
shores.  Then  came  Memphis  ;  and  in  a  day  or  two,  a 
week  after  we  had  begun  our  voyage  up  those  long 
leagues,  we  reached  Island  Ten  and  Columbus,  —  the 
hostile  strongholds  of  two  years  before. 

We  left  nearly  a  score  of  our  more  deathly  sick  to 
the  Sisters  of  Charity  at  Mound  City ;  then  on  through 
'*  Egypt,"  where  they  did  not  care  for  us ;  across 
through  loyal  Indiana  and  Ohio,  where  they  cheered 


232  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

and  clasped  us,  and  only  blamed  us  because  we  had 
sent  no  word  of  our  coming.  Flourish,  little  Marion  ! 
where  every  villager  came  running  to  us,  who  were  so 
worn  and  hungry,  with  a  well-filled  basket ;  and  bless 
ings  on  generous  Buffalo  !  city  of  prodigious  gains 
and  prodigious  munificence,  where,  on  Sunday  morn 
ing,  a  congregation  and  their  shepherd  held  service  at 
the  depot,  ministering  with  tearful  eyes  to  the  sallow 
and  fever-smitten  multitude. 

And  now  we  are  nearing  home.  Hark  !  it  is  my 
own  church-bell,  ringing  welcome.  Here  are  the 
familiar  faces  at  last.  Old  Cruden  and  venerable 
Calmet  welcome  their  master  from  their  shelves ;  and 
ere  long,  washed  and  refreshed,  the  soldier  falls  on  his 
knees,  by  the  side  of  his  own  sweet,  white  bed,  to 
thank  God  for  his  mercies. 

The  Banks  campaign  of  the  spring  and  early  summer 
of  1863  is  coming  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  masterpiece 
of  strategy.  As  yet,  but  little  has  appeared  in  print 
about  it.  It  ought,  however,  to  interest  the  military 
student  and  the  general  public.  Facts,  I  think,  will 
support  the  interpretation  of  the  campaign,  which  I 
propose  to  give.  If  the  view  about  to  be  presented  is 
correct,  to  Gen.  Banks,  in  addition  to  his  former  fame, 
is  due  the  glory  of  being  a  mighty  leader  of  armies. 

Gen.  Banks  was  sent  to  Louisiana  to  hold  and  gov 
ern  the  territory  which  had  already  been  conquered  by 
Butler  and  Farragut,  and  to  restore  the  Federal  author 
ity  in  regions  still  under  the  rebel  domination.  In  the 


CONCLUSION.  233 

way  of  offensive  operations,  the  special  task  given  him 
to  perform  was  to  co-operate  with  Grant  in  re-opening 
the  Mississippi.  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson  were  the 
two  obstacles  to  be  overcome.  To  Grant  was  intrusted 
the  reduction  of  the  former;  to  Banks,  the  capture  of 
Port  Hudson. 

During  the  inclement  weather  of  the  winter,  the  army 
was  arriving.  The  regiments,  as  they  came,  went  into 
camp,  and  were  vigorously  drilled.  In  March,  when 
the  heavy  rains  had  ceased  and  military  operations  be 
came  possible,  Banks  was  ready  to  take  the  field.  His 
force  consisted  only  of  the  Nineteenth  Army  Corps.  A 
good  part  of  this  force  were  "  nine-months'  men,"  whose 
terms  of  service  expired  during  the  first  part  of  the 
summer.  Whatever  was  done,  must  be  done  before 
midsummer. 

At  this  time,  Gardner  held  Port  Hudson  with  a  force 
equal  to,  or  perhaps  greater  than,  the  army  which  Gen. 
Banks  could  bring  against  him.  To  rush  at  once  upon 
the  enemy,  within  his  strong  intrenchments,  would  have 
been  to  incur  certain  and  bloody  defeat.  It  was  an 
occasion  for  strategy.  Port  Hudson  could  be  i 'educed , 
if  Gardner  could  be  led  to  send  away  a  considerable  part 
of  his  garrison ;  and  if,  at  the  same  time,  it  could  be  so 
managed,  that  the  remnant  left  should  be  short  for  supplies, 
so  that  protracted  resistance  would  be  impossible.  How  tc 
accomplish  this  was  the  problem  before  the  general, 
in  the  beginning  of  March,  when  he  prepared  for  active 
operations. 

The  first   operation   of  the  campaign   was   directed 


234  THE   COLOR-GUARD. 

toward  cutting  off  the  river  communication  of  the  gar 
rison,  by  which  they  could  receive  supplies  and  re-en 
forcements.  The  13th  of  March,  we  set  out  from  Baton 
Rouge  for  Port  Hudson.  At  dusk  of  the  14th,  the 
reader  of  the  foregoing  pages  will  remember,  we  were 
pushed  up  to  within  easy  cannon-range  of  the  rebel 
batteries  ;  while  field-artillery  fired  and  manoeuvred  as 
if  a  rush  were  to  be  made  at  once  upon  the  parapet. 
We  expected  a  land-attack  ;  the  enemy  expected  it.  A 
bright  reb,  whom  I  met,  during  the  truce  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  capitulation,  between  their  rampart  and 
our  rifle-pits,  told  me,  that,  so  confident  were  they 
that  night  of  a  land-attack,  the  "cannoneers  on  the 
bluff  were  off  their  guard.  They  did  not  see  the  fleet 
stealing  silently  past,  until  the  vessels  at  the  head  were 
pretty  much  out  of  danger,  up  the  stream.  If  they  had 
seen  them,  they  could  have  kept  them  down  as  they  did 
the  ships  farther  back."  The  next  day,  as  I  stood  on 
the  bold  Port-Hudson  bluff,  and  saw  the  immense  guns 
which  the  rebels  had  planted  on  the  brow,  with  delicate 
sights  just  above  the  enormous  muzzles,  and  well-stored 
magazines,  and  ovens  for  hot  shot  close  at  hand,  I  could 
not  help  believing  what  the  rebel  had  told  me.  With 
those  cannon,  hot  shot  and  shell  could  be  cast,  almost 
with  the  precision  of  rifle-balls,  at  objects  passing  below. 
If  the  cannoneers  had  kept  sharp  watch,  the  "Hartford" 
and  "Albatross,"  both  wooden  vessels,  could  not  have 
passed.  It  was  precisely  that  thing  the  general  was 
manoeuvring  after,  —  to  induce  the  garrison  to  look  for 
a  land-attack ;  whereas  the  object  he  had  in  view  was 


CONCLUSION.  235 

to  get  these  powerful  vessels  above  the  fortress  to  cut 
off  the  river  communication.  It  was  the  artifice,  pre 
cisely,  of  a  skilful  boxer,  who  makes  a  feint  with  his 
right  hand,  then  puts  in  the  blow  in  earnest  with  his 
left.  The  stratagem  was  successful.  The  general,  no 
doubt,  wished  to  pass  a  stronger  force  of  vessels  above 
the  fortress  ;  but  the  two  proved  sufficient.  The  rebels 
had  nothing  on  the  stream  to  cope  with  them  in  fair 
fight,  and  Farragut  was  too  sagacious  and  prudent  to  be 
entrapped.  The  "  Mississippi,"  indeed,  was  lost ;  but 
one  old  frigate  was  a  small  price  to  pay  for  so  substan 
tial  an  advantage. 

The  next  operation  of  the  campaign  was  to  ma- 
no2uvre  in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  the  rebel  commanders 
to  believe,  that  Port  Hudson,  after  all,  was  not  the 
threatened  point.  Now  that  the  river  was  in  our  pos 
session,  the  great  garrison  at  Port  Hudson  would  soon 
be  embarrassed  for  supplies ;  and,  if  Gardner  and 
Pemberton  could  be  induced  to  believe  that  Banks  had 
some  project  elsewhere,  it  would  be  the  natural  thing 
for  them  to  withdraw  a  portion  of  the  force  from  the 
distressed  stronghold,  and  send  them,  by  land,  where 
they  fancied  the  troops  could  be  of  more  service. 

Banks  proceeded  without  delay.  At  the  end  of 
March,  we  embarked  on  transports,  and  went  southward 
from  the  rebels,  toward  New  Orleans.  Landing  at  the 
Bayou  La  Fourche,  we  marched  westward,  and,  in  a 
week  or  two,  began  the  raid  through  the  back  country, 
from  Brashear  City  to  Alexandria  on  the  Red  River. 
The  inferior  rebel  force  in  this  region  was  dissipated  by 


236  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

our  hasty  rush  ;  a  vast  amount  of  cotton  and  sugar  were 
captured ;  and  supplies  were  seized,  which  might  pos 
sibly  have  found  their  way  into  Port  Hudson,  escaping 
the  vigilance  of  the  "Hartford"  and  "Albatross."  But 
the  most  important  end  accomplished  was  this,  —  and  it 
was,  no  doubt,  the  end  which  the  general  had  mainly  in 
view,  — it  completely  misled  the  rebel  generals  as  to  his 
real  designs. 

O 

The  young  rebel  colonel,  chief  of  Gardner's  staff  at 
Port  Hudson,  the  night  after  the  capitulation  in  July, 
rides  over  to  the  Federal  camp  to  see  his  old  friend  and 

former  companion-in-arms,  Col.  G ,  of  the th 

Mass.  An  old  friend  of  mine,  a  distinguished  young 
officer  of  the  regiment,  is  present  at  the  interview,  and 
sits  up  himself  with  the  rebel  colonel,  till  midnight, 
talking  over  past  events.  Next  time  I  see  my  friend, 
he  tells  me  about  his  talk.  One  thing  is  this  :  This 
officer  says,  that,  when  Banks  was  at  Alexandria,  it  was 
believed,  on  the  rebel  side,  that  Port  Hudson  was  no 
longer  threatened  ;  that,  at  that  time,  Lieut-Gen.  Pem- 
berton  sent  word  from  Yicksburg,  to  his  subordinate, 
Gardner,  that  Port  Hudson  was  not  in  danger,  and  that 
lie  might  send  elsewhere  part  of  his  army.  Gardner 
did  so ;  and,  when  he  was  weakened  by  sending  off  a 
large  portion  of  his  force,  suddenly  Banks,  on  the  Red 
River,  put  his  army  upon  transports,  and  Port  Hudson 
was  invested,  before  a  man  of  those  who  had  been  sent 
away  could  be  recalled. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  rebs  to  us  when  the  fortress  fell,  "  if 
you  had  only  attacked  us  when  you  came  up  in  March, 


CONCLUSION.  237 

when  we  were  ready  for  you  !  "  But  that  was  precisely 
what  Gen.  Banks  was  too  wise  to  do.  Instead  of  that, 
he  had  preferred  to  manoeuvre  so  as  to  induce  the  rebel 
leaders  to  reduce  the  garrison,  and  to  cut  off  their  sup 
plies  of  provisions 

The  field  of  all  this  manoeuvring  was  very  extensive. 
The  Fifty-second  Kegiment  marched  more  than  three 
hundred  miles  while  it  was  being  done,  and  a  portion 
of  the  army  accomplished  still  more.  Well  do  we 
remember  what  ache  and  sweat  it  cost  us  !  But  it  was 
vigorous  to  the  extent  of  human  endurance,  and 
perfectly  successful ;  for  at  the  end  of  May,  when  the 
sudden  investment  of  Port  Hudson  took  place,  the  place 
contained  but  a  few  thousand  troops,  with  provisions  for 
only  a  few  weeks. 

The  third  and  closing  operation  of  the  campaign  was 
the  siege  of  Port  Hudson.  During  this  siege,  two 
assaults  were  made  upon  the  rebel  works,  —  on  the 
27th  of  May  and  the  14th  of  June.  Both  were  bloody  ; 
both  were  unsuccessful  as  assaults  :  and  Gen.  Banks 
has  been  blamed  sometimes  for  having  "  mismanaged  " 
them,  sometimes  for  having  suffered  them  to  be  made 
at  all. 

As  to  the  charge  of  mismanagement.  It  should  be 
remembered,  that  no  military  undertaking  is  more  critical 
than  an  assault  upon  a  well-defended  fortress.  In  1811, 
Wellington  was  twice  repulsed  at  Badajoz,  with  prodi 
gious  loss  ;  and  in  1799,  at  Acre,  Napoleon  himself 
rushed  seven  or  eight  times  in  vain  against  the  works 
defended  by  the  British  and  Turks.  Certainly  it  would 


238  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

be  rash  to  say,  simply  because  an  assault  was  unsuc 
cessful,  that  it  was  mismanaged,  The  opinion  of  com 
petent  military  critics  is  alone  of  value  upon  this  point. 
The  writer  is  far  enough  from  pretending  to  such  a 
character.  We  used  to  hear,  at  Port  Hudson,  that  the 
assaults  failed  from  lukewarmness  on  the  part  of  subor 
dinates  ;  from  the  irremediable  embarrassment  arising 
from  the  early  and  unexpected  fall  of  officers  holding 
important  commands  ;  and  from  the  circumstance,  that 
portions  of  the  attacking  force  lost  their  way.  To  say 
the  least,  it  is  as  probable  that  some  such  cause  as  this 
prevented  success,  as  that  there  was  want  of  skill  in 
planning  the  attacks. 

Gen.  Banks  has  been  blamed  for  having  suffered  the 
assaults  to  be  made  at  all.  Since  an  assault  is  so  criti 
cal  an  affair,  perhaps  nothing  is  sufficient  to  justify  one, 
but  some  great  strait  in  which  a  general  is  placed.  A 
siege  is  far  safer  and  more  certain,  and  ought,  no  doubt, 
to  be  preferred,  when  there  is  time.  Was  Gen.  Banks 
in  such  a  strait  as  to  justify  him  in  trying  to  storm 
Port  Hudson  ?  It  is  hard  to  see  how  a  general  can  be 
in  a  much  closer  corner  than  was  Gen.  Banks  at  the 
end  of  May.  At  the  outset  of  the  campaign,  his  force 
was  small,  in  view  of  the  objects  to  be  accomplished. 
The  vigorous  operations  which  took  place  at  once  had 
diminished  this  force  very  largely.  The  hot  season 
had  already  begun  ;  during  which,  sickness  was  sure  to 
prevail.  Moreover,  the  time  of  the  "nine-months' 
men  "  was  on  the  point  of  expiring.  Is  it  strange  Gen. 
Banks  felt  driven  to  even  desperate  expedients  ? 


CONCLUSION.  239 

The  assaults  failed  in  their  main  object  of  taking  the 
fortress,  but  still  secured  us  some  advantages.  Each 
time,  numbers  of  rebels  fell,  and  important  ground  was 
gained  close  under  the  hostile  parapet. 

The  siege  was  pushed  as  operations  had  been  pushed 
from  the  beginning.  Farragut  kept  watch  above  and 
below  on  the  river,  and  no  food  could  reach  the  half- 
starved  garrison.  From  land  and  stream  poured  in  a 
constant  fire  of  shot  and  shell,  while  sharpshooters  sent 
their  volleys  day  and  night.  At  length,  the  place  fell. 
It  was  high  time  :  for  the  nine-months'  regiments  were 
beginning  to  mutiny ;  New  Orleans,  which  was  held  by 
a  small  force,  was  seriously  threatened ;  and  the  whole 
army,  under  the  burning  heats,  was  fast  sinking  away. 
Out  of  our  company  of  ninety,  scarcely  twenty  were 
on  duty  at  last.  The  whole  regiment  was  diminished  in 
the  same  proportion,  and  the  men  counted  as  effective 
were  generally  far  below  the  standard  of  health ;  yet 
there  were  few  stronger  regiments  than  ours.  That  the 
fall  of  Vicksburg,  which  took  place  a  few  days  pre 
vious,  only  hastened  the  fall  of  Port  Hudson  by  a  day 
or  two,  we  have  the  testimony  of  the  rebel  leaders,  and 
the  explicit  declaration  of  Gen.  Grant  himself.  The 
Nineteenth  Army  Corps  claim  for  their  general  the  full 
glory  of  the  capture,  —  a  success  accomplished  with  a 
small  comparative  force,  within  a  comparatively  short 
time,  under  unfavorable  skies.  We  claim  for  our 
leader  the  superlative  merits  of  almost  unexampled 
vigor,  sagacity,  courage,  and  persistence. 

The  day  after  the  surrender,  I  saw  the  general  ride 


240  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

on  his  black  steed,  down  the  bluff,  on  his  way  to  the 
"  Hartford,"  to  exchange  congratulations  with  his  brave 
and  skilful  coadjutor,  the  admiral.  He  was  haggard 
and  pale,  as  were  his  men ;  but  strong  and  exultant. 
So  he  rode,  —  the  foremost  man  of  New  England ; 
perhaps  the  foremost  man  of  the  land :  and  so,  I  can 
believe,  rode  Marlborough,  after  Blenheim  ;  and  Prince 
Eugene  at  Belgrade. 

During  the  past  year,  I  have  seen  much  of  human 
nature,  —  often  a  very  rough  side  of  it.  In  our  own 
regiment  were  a  large  number  of  men  of  such  age  and 
character  as  are  not  usually  found  in  the  position  of 
private  soldiers ;  but  we  had,  besides  these,  a  propor 
tion  of  "rough  characters."  Then,  again,  in  organi 
zations  less  favored  than  ours,  with  which  we  were 
associated,  there  was  ample  opportunity  of  meeting  with 
those  whom  society  calls  very  much  debased.  I  met 
such  men  under  circumstances  when  many  of  the  ordi 
nary  restraints  of  life  were  taken  off,  so  that  their  true 
natures  could  come  out  more  fully.  What  have  I 
learned  ?  To  put  as  much  confidence  in  men  as  ever ; 
to  believe  in  the  intrinsic  goodness  of  the  human  heart. 
Indolence,  cruelty,  sensuality,  meanness,  are  the  things 
men  invariably  detest,  and  what  they  blame.  Mercy, 
liberality,  truth,  kindness,  are  what  they  invariably 
commend. 

Much  evil  there  is  among  the  rank  and  file,  as  there 
is  among  those  higher  in  position.  I  have  seen  want 
of  patience,  want  of  honesty,  want  of  temperance.  I 


CONCLUSION.  241 

have  seen  gambling  and  ill-temper,  and  know  how  foul 
the  air  of  a  camp  is  with  coarseness  and  blasphemy. 
But  this  I  have  not  seen  :  the  man  who  liked  or  would 
commend  selfishness ;  the  man  who  disliked  or  would 
blame  unselfishness.  One  does  not  learn  to  think  less 
of  human  nature  from  contact  with  "rough  men,"  how 
ever  it  may  be  from  contact  with  those  at  the  opposite 
social  extreme.  Often  they  do  not  imitate  what  they 
admire ;  often  they  do  not  avoid  in  their  ow.n  conduct 
what  they  detest  in  others  :  but  this  is  true,  that  the 
human  instincts  are  always  fixed  in  a  love  for  good,  in 
a  hatred  for  bad.  In  the  society  of  the  low,  as  in  every 
human  society,  there  is  but  one  rule  for  securing  en 
during  popularity, — "Be  unselfish." 

I  have  known  men,  rough  in  language  and  manners  ; 
judged  by  our  conventional  standards,  thoroughly  un- 
sanctified  ;  perhaps  they  hardly  ever  saw  the  inside  of  a 
church,  or  breathed  an  audible  prayer,  though  their  talk 
was  full  of  oaths  :  yet  they  would  do  noble  things. 
They  would  help  others  generously ;  they  would  bear 
privation  cheerfully ;  and  I  have  known  them,  in  a  time 
of  pestilence,  to  watch,  day  and  night,  with  patients 
sick  of  contagious  diseases,  when  the  camp  was  full  of 
death.  They  watched  until  they  grew  sick ;  then,  after 
they  were  sick,  until  their  lives  were  in  peril.  I  have 
heard  the  lips  of  dying  men  bless  them. 

The  thought  of  the  beautiful  poem  of  "Abou  Ben 
Adhem  "  is,  that,  because  he  loves  his  fellow-men,  an 
angel  writes  his  name  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  those 
whom  "  love  of  God  had  blessed.'*  I  know  not  why 

11 


242  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

the  names  of  some   of  these  I  speak  of  should  not  be 
written  there  too,  "rough"  though  they  are. 

Now  that  all  is  over,  let  me  set  down,  briefly,  the 
light  in  which  the  great  question  lies  before  me  after 
this  experience.  I  find  my  face  set  persistently  as  ever 
against  the  threatening  power.  Near  observation  only 
confirms  what  we  hear  of  its  strength,  of  its  iniquity, 
of  its  persistent  hostility  to  what  we  hold  sacred.  Of 
the  benefits  I  have  derived  from  this  military  experience, 
it  is  not  the  least,  that  now  I  know,  through  my  own 
observation,  what  before  was  only  hearsay.  We  have 
heard  that  Southern  society  was  ignorant ;  that,  at  the 
South,  there  was  little  regard  for  justice  ;  that  the  heart 
of  the  slaveholder  became  cruel  and  hard;  that  the 
marriage-tie  was  held  in  small  respect.  We  have 
heard,  too,  about  the  effect  of  slavery  upon  the  negroes  ; 
that  although  it  raised  them,  in  a  degree,  above  barba 
rism  9 — far  enough  to  make  them  useful  instruments, 
forcing  them  into  industry  and  into  so  much  of  order 
and  decency  as  improved  them  as  tools, — yet  that  there 
it  left  them,  and  interposed  iron  barriers  against  their 
mounting  farther  in  the  scale.  We  have  heard,  that, 
under  slavery,  there  can  be  but  one  form  of  industry, — 
the  simplest  agriculture  ;  that  here  the  tools  are  coarse, 
the  methods  rude,  the  operations  so  carried  on  as  soon 
to  impoverish  the  earth ;  that  when  the  surface  richness 
is  taken  off,  instead  of  replenishing  its  strength  or  sub- 
soiling,  the  soil  is  simply  abandoned,  to  become  a 
wilderness  again,  while  the  planter  goes  off  in  search 
of  virgin,  inexhausted  land. 


CONCLUSION.  243 

All  these  things  have  been  matters  of  hearsay ;  but 
now  I  can  pile  fact  upon  fact,  from  my  own  observa 
tion,  in  confirmation.  If  slavery  is  to  exist,  it  must 
extend  its  area.  There  are  inherent  necessities  which 
force  it  to  seek  new  and  again  new  domain.  How 
lucidly  and  convincingly  is  this  argued  in  "  The  Slave 
Power  "  !  We  must  triumph,  or,  I  believe  in  my  heart, 
we  shall  see  the  triumphant  South  extending  its  domi 
nion  southward  and  westward  into  Mexico ;  thence,  in 
the  future,  forced  by  these  inherent  necessities,  into  the 
other  continent  and  the  tropical  islands,  —  extending 
its  empire  throughout  the  "golden  circle"  that  sur 
rounds  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  This  territory,  slavery 
will  blast  as  it  has  blasted  the  territory  in  its  possession 
to-day.  It  will  debase  the  master-class  into  the  cruelty, 
the  injustice,  the  corruptness,  which  we  know  now  as 
characterizing  them.  It  will  maintain  the  servile  class 
in  a  situation  but  little  removed  from  their  first  bar 
barism. 

I  know  not  how,  to-day,  any  knightly  and  chivalrous 
soul  can  do  otherwise  than  burn  to  rush  forth  to  prevent 
this.  As  I  write,  the  cause  of  the  slave-power  lan 
guishes.  It  was  otherwise  up  to  the  first  days  of  July  ; 
or,  rather,  its  decline  was  less  marked  than  our  safety 
required.  I  remember  well,  how  in  the  rifle-pits, 
toward  the  end  of  June,  I  heard  Grosvenor  talk,  who 
is  now  no  more.  Justice  and  truth,  he  held,  were  in 
peril  as  much  as  when  we  came  forth ;  and  could  we  go 
home,  and  leave  it  so  ?  Kather  ought  we  to  stay,  though 
amid  hunger  and  fever  and  leaden  rain,  until  light 


244  THE    COLOR-GUARD. 

came.  Almost  in  that  very  hour  came  the  dawning 
of  light.  But  if  skies  again  darken,  if  through  unfore 
seen  disaster  or  alien  interference  the  good  cause  is  again 
imperilled,  ought  we  not  to  thank  God  we  have  learned 
to  endure  the  march,  to  poise  the  rifle,  to  bear  up 
against  the  hot,  shrill  hail  of  war?  So  to  live,  in  these 
times,  we  feel  is  to  live  well ;  and  to  die  at  the  front  is 
to  die  well ;  and,  unto  those  who  die  thus,  the  voice  of 
Christ  might  say,  — 

"  Come,  my  beloved!  e'en  as  I  was  pained, 
So  art  thou  broken,  and  thy  life  outpoured : 
Therefore  I  bless  thee,  and  give  thanks  for  thee." 


THE     END, 


Boston:    Printed  by  John  WiUon  and  Son. 


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